his voice.

"That cry," he explained breathlessly, "didn't you hear it?" Frank's
eyes were brilliant with excitement; he was pale.

Nobody had heard it. And Ralph Addington and Pete Murphy, cursing
lustily, turned over and promptly fell asleep again. But Billy Fairfax
grew rapidly more and more awake. "What sort of a cry?" he asked. Honey
Smith said nothing, but he stirred the fire into a blaze in preparation
for a talk.

"The strangest cry I ever heard, long-drawn-out, wild - eerie's the word
for it, I guess," Frank Merrill said. As he spoke, he peered off into
the darkness. "If it were possible, I should say it was a woman's
voice."

The three men walked away from the camp, looked off into every direction
of the starlit night. Nowhere was there sign or sound of life.

"It must have been gulls," said Honey Smith.

"It didn't sound like gulls," answered Frank Merrill. For an instant he
fell into meditation so deep that he virtually forgot the presence of
the other two. "I don't know what it was," he said finally in an
exasperated tone. "I'm going to sleep."

They walked back to camp. Frank Merrill rolled himself up in a blanket,
lay down. Soon there came from his direction only the sound of regular,
deep breathing.