Another pregnant silence, while the nightwind stirred her hair and wafted the warm feminine perfume of her to his nostrils. Stern took a long, deep breath. A sort of dizziness crept over him, as from a glass of wine on an empty stomach. The Call of Woman strove to master him, but he repelled it. And, watching the creeping lights, he spoke; spoke to himself as much as to the girl; spoke, lest he think too much. "There's a chance, a mere possibility," said he, "that those boats, canoes, coracles or whatever they may be, belong to white people, far descendants of the few suppositions survivors of the cataclysm. There's some slight chance that these people may be civilized, or partly so. "Why they're coming across the Hudson, at this time o' night, with what object and to what place, we can't even guess. All we can do is wait, and watch and--be ready for anything." "For anything!" she echoed. "You've seen me shoot! You know!" He took her hand, and pressed it. And silence fell again, as the long vigil started, there in the shadow of the tower, on the roof. For some quarter of an hour, neither spoke. Then at last, said Stern: "See, now! The lights seem to be winking out. The canoes must have come close in toward the shore of the island. They're being masked behind the trees. The people--whoever they are--will be landing directly now!" "And then?" "Wait and see!" They resigned themselves to patience. The girl's breath came quickly, as she watched. Even the engineer felt his heart throb with accelerated haste. Now, far in the east, dim over the flat and dreary ruins of Long Island, the sky began to silver, through a thin veil of cirrus cloud. A pallid moon was rising. Far below, a breeze stirred the tree-fronds in Madison Forest. A bat staggered drunkenly about the tower, then reeled away into the gloom; and, high aloft, an owl uttered its melancholy plaint. Beatrice shuddered. "They'll be here pretty soon!" whispered she. "Hadn't we better go down, and get our guns? In case--" "Time enough," he answered. "Wait a while." "Hark! What's that?" she exclaimed suddenly, holding her breath. Off to northward, dull, muffled, all but inaudible, they both heard a rhythmic pulsing, strangely barbaric. "Heavens!" ejaculated Stern. "War-drums! Tom-toms, as I live!" CHAPTER XVI THE GATHERING OF THE HORDES "Tom-toms? So they _are_ savages?" exclaimed the girl, taking a quick breath. "But--what _then?_" "Don't just know, yet. It's a fact, though; they're certainly savages. Two tribes, one with torches, one with drums. Two different kinds, I guess. And they're coming in here to parley or fight or something. Regular powwow on hand. Trouble ahead, whichever side wins!" "For us?" "That depends. Maybe we'll be able to lie hidden, here, till this thing blows over, whatever it may be. If not, and if they cut off our water-supply, well--"