It seemed to come across to us in the darkness from the waste
of swamps and willows opposite. It was repeated at regular intervals, but
it was certainly neither the sound of a bell nor the hooting of a distant
steamer. I can liken it to nothing so much as to the sound of an immense
gong, suspended far up in the sky, repeating incessantly its muffled
metallic note, soft and musical, as it was repeatedly struck. My heart
quickened as I listened.
"I've heard it all day," said my companion. "While you slept this afternoon
it came all round the island. I hunted it down, but could never get near
enough to see--to localize it correctly. Sometimes it was overhead, and
sometimes it seemed under the water. Once or twice, too, I could have sworn
it was not outside at all, but within myself--you know--the way a sound in
the fourth dimension is supposed to come."
I was too much puzzled to pay much attention to his words. I listened
carefully, striving to associate it with any known familiar sound I could
think of, but without success. It changed in the direction, too, coming
nearer, and then sinking utterly away into remote distance. I cannot say
that it was ominous in quality, because to me it seemed distinctly musical,
yet I must admit it set going a distressing feeling that made me wish I had
never heard it.
"The wind blowing in those sand-funnels," I said determined to find an
explanation, "or the bushes rubbing together after the storm perhaps.
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