All her life she had known the sound of guns, but never before had her ears received such an air-splitting shock as this. Her alarm could know no bounds. It had come so suddenly and unexpectedly; it had been such a cataclysmic destruction of the island's haunting calm! She was certain some hideous blunder had occurred--that Grenville, too, had perished by the thing he had fearlessly dared to create. She had seen for an instant that fan-like glare, as she gazed far out across the jungle. And now, as she stood there, rigid with fears and fixedly staring at the formless gloom--why did she hear no sound? "Oh, he might--he might call!" she said, and she tried to halloo, but in vain. She waited a time that seemed endless for some little sign from the jungle. He had promised before that, if all went well, he would hasten home at once. Surely this promise held good to-night--especially after that explosion! Perhaps it was not yet time; perhaps it was farther away than she had thought. The glare had seemed near, but he had no torch, and must walk but slowly through the thicket. How dark it must be along the trails, in that tangle growth, with nothing for a light! How could he possibly hasten? She was standing out on the brink of the wall, staring down at the gloom of the clearing, convinced that her ears, if not her eyes, would detect the first sign of his coming. Just the merest red gleam from the firebrand was all she would ask of the darkness--just that dull little star in the firmament of black! But the ebon remained unbroken. That he might be lost occurred to her mind, but again she thought it was yet too soon for his return. She stumbled swiftly to the fire again, to stir it to brighter refulgence. It would seem to him a beacon against the sky to guide his footsteps home! She thought of a blazing brand she could carry to the brink of the wall. With the largest limb afforded by the fire she returned, in haste and eagerness, to wave him a signal of welcome. And still nothing came from the clearing. "Sidney!" she cried through the stillness, at last. "Sidney! Are you there?" The night surrendered no response, save some animal cry far off where the barque was rotting. "If he's dead!" she moaned. "If he's dead!" But he might be wounded and helpless, she thought, with no one to come to his side. He might not be hurt unto death itself--if aid could reach him now! If he died--if he left her thus alone---- A thousand times she preferred to die beside him! "Sidney!" she cried, as before. With a strange dry note, choked back between her lips, she fled once more to the fire. Meantime the man by the tiger's kill continued to lie without motion on the earth. Not even the glow of his cheering brand remained like a sign of life in that silent theater.