Neither had he a name for this, only it was inexpressibly wild and sweet.

The thought came that it might be a moan of the girl in her last outcry of life, and he felt a tremor shake him.
But no! This sound was not human, though it was like despair.

He began to doubt his sensitive perceptions, to believe that he half-dreamed what he thought he heard.

Then the sound swelled with the strengthening of the breeze, and he realized it was the singing of the wind in the cliffs.
By and by a drowsiness overcame him, and Venters began to nod, half asleep, with his back against a spruce.

Rousing himself and calling Whitie, he went to the cave.