could be likened to nothing but the crying of all the souls of dead things
since the beginning. Never was there such an infernal chorus as that
which played up the Martian stars. Down there in front, where hummock
grass was growing, some beast squeaked continuously, till I shouted at
him, then he stopped a minute, and began again in entirely another note.
Away on the hills two rival monsters were calling to each other in tones
so hollow they seemed as I listened to penetrate through me, and echo
out of my heart again. Far overhead, gigantic bats were flitting, the
shadow of their wings dimming a dozen universes at once, and crying to
each other in shrill tones that rent the air like tearing silk.

As I listened to those vampires discussing their infernal loves under
the stars, from a branch right overhead broke such a deathly howl from
the throat of a wandering forest cat that everything else was hushed for
a moment. All about a myriad insects were making night giddy with their
ghostly fires, while underground and from the labyrinths of matted roots
came quaint sounds of rustling snakes and forest pigs, and all the lesser
things that dig and scratch and growl.

Yet I was desperately sleepy, my sword hung heavy as lead at my side,
my eyelids drooped, and so at last I dozed uneasily for an hour or two.
Then, all on a sudden, I came wide awake with a shock. The night was
quieter now; away in the forest depth strange noises still arose, but
close at hand was a strange hush, like the hush of expectation, and,
listening wonderingly, I was aware of slow, heavy footsteps coming up from
the river, now two or three steps together, then a pause, then another
step or two, and as I bent towards the approaching thing, staring into
the darkness, my strained senses were conscious of another approach,
as like as could be, coming from behind me. On they came, making the
very ground quake with their weight, till I judged that both were about