Common sense instantly sobered him and dispelled these vain ideas. The bungalow, after all, was not vital to his future or the girl's. Barring the set of encyclopedias on metal plates, everything else could be replaced with sufficient labor. Only a madman would risk a fight with such a Horde in company with a woman. Not now were he and Beatrice entrenched in a strong tower, with terrible explosives. Now they were in the open, armed only with revolvers. For the present there was no redress. "Beta," cried he, "we're up against it this time for fair--and we can't hit back!" "Our bungalow! Our precious home!" "I know." He saw that she was crying: "It's a rotten shame and all that, but it isn't fatal." He brought the Pauillac down-wind again, coasting high over the bungalow, whence smoke now issued ever more and more thickly. "We're simply hamstrung this time, that's all. Where those devils have come from and how many there may be, God knows. Thousands, perhaps; the woods may be full of em. It's lucky for us they didn't attack while we were there! "Now--well, the only thing to do is let 'em have their way for the present. Eventually--" "Oh, can't we _ever_ get rid of the horrid little beasts for good?" "We can and will!" He spoke very grimly, soaring the machine still higher over the river and once more coming round above the upper end of the beach. "One of these days there's got to be a final reckoning, but not yet!" "So it's good-by to Hope Villa, Allan? There's no way?" "It's good-by. Humanly speaking, none." "Couldn't we land, blockade ourselves in the boat-house, and--" Her eyes sparkled with the boldness of the plan--its peril, its possibilities. But Allan only shook his head. "And expose the Pauillac on the beach?" he asked. "One good swing with a war-club into the motor and then a week's siege and slow starvation, with a final rush--interesting, but not practical, little girl. No, no; the better part of valor is to recognize force majeure and _wait!_ Remember what we've said already? 'Je recule pour mieux sauter?' Wait till we get a fresh start on these hell-hounds; we'll jump 'em far enough!" The bungalow now lay behind. The whole clearing seemed alive with the little blue demons, like vermin crawling everywhere. Thicker and thicker now the smoke was pouring upward. The scene was one of utter desolation. Then suddenly it faded. The plane had borne its riders onward and away from the range of vision. Again only dense forest lay below, while to eastward sparkled the broad reach where, in the first days of their happiness at Hope Villa, the girl and Allan had fished and bathed. Her tears were unrestrained at last; but Allan, steadying the wheel with one hand, drew an arm about her and kissed and comforted her. "There, there, little girl! The world's not ended yet, even if they _have_ burned up our home-made mission furniture! Come, Beatrice, no tears--we've other things to think of now!"