He knew, knew without questioning, that Mukoki was thinking of the cry! And at that instant there floated up from the black chaos ahead a sound, a sound low and weird, like the moaning of a winter's wind through the pine tops, swelling, advancing, until it ended in a shriek--a shriek that echoed and reechoed between the chasm walls, dying away in a wail that froze the blood of the three who sat and listened!.