While Frank was puzzling over the meaning of these apertures there
came a repetition of the weird cry, but this time the lad was so
startled that he almost lost his balance and fell backward.
The call seemed to proceed from his very feet. Then, all at once,
he realized what it was.
The strange sounds proceeded from the mouth of the stone face.
Frank ran to the edge of the steep declivity that formed the nose.
"Say, Harry, and you too, Ben, examine the surface below there very
carefully for any holes. They will probably be small ones and in a
row."
"None this side," announced the searchers after a lengthy quest.
"Try the other," ordered Frank.
They did so and after a few minutes of careful scrutiny Harry
shouted that they had found a row of small holes pierced in the rock
just below where Frank stood.
"Then we have solved the mystery of the voice," exclaimed Frank.
"What do you mean?" demanded Harry.
"That it is nothing more or less than an arrangement of holes
through which, when the wind blows in a stiff puff, air is forced
with violence enough to cause the cry that disturbed us so much last
night," was the reply.
This indeed was the solution, and had the boys known it there are
many such rocks in Africa, carved out by some forgotten race, and
the weird cries that the vent-holes give out in the wind doubtless
acted as a powerful "fetish" to keep away troublesome enemies.
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