It was almost like a visitation of evil spirits.

Those weird, long-drawn cries, singularly piercing on a still night, were bad omens.

Some of his warriors stirred and became uneasy, but Tandakora quieted them sternly and promised that the Bostonnais would soon be along.

Hope aroused again, the men plucked up courage and resumed their patient waiting.
Then the cry of the panther, long drawn, wailing like the shriek of a woman, came from the east and the west, and presently from the north and the south also, followed soon by the dreadful hooting of the owls, and then by the fierce growls of the bear.

Tandakora, in spite of himself, in spite of his undoubted courage, in spite of his vast experience in the forest, shuddered.