"Van Note meant to run in the Chief to-night,"--in an anxious, inquiring whisper. "He's not an idiot!" "No,--but, bein' near, the wind may drive 'em on the bar. Look yonder." "See that, too, Joe?" said bow-legged Phil, from Tom's River, who was up that night. "That yellow line has never been in the sky since the night the James Frazier--_Ach-h! it's come!_" He had stooped to help Doctor Dennis with his harness, but now fell forward, clapping his hands to his ears. A terrible darkness swept over them; the whole air was filled with a fierce, risping crackle; then came a sharp concussion, that seemed to tear the earth asunder. Miss Defourchet cried aloud: no one answered her. In a few moments the darkness slowly lifted, leaving the old yellow lights and fogs on sea and land. The men stood motionless as when the tornado passed, Doctor Dennis leaning on his old mare, having thrown one arm about her as if to protect her, his stern face awed. "There's where it went," said Joe, coolly, drawing his hands from his pockets, and pointing to a black gap in the pine woods. "The best farms in this Jersey country lie back o' that. I told you there was death in the pot, but I didn't think it ud 'a' come this fashion." "When will the storm be on us?" asked Mary, trembling. Joe laughed sardonically. "Haven't ye hed enough of it?" "There will be no rain after a gust like that," said MacAulay. "I'll try and get you home now. It has done its worst. It will take years to wipe out the woe this night has worked." The wind had fallen into a dead silence, frightened at itself. And now the sudden, awful thunder of the sea broke on them, shaking the sandy soil on which they stood. "Thank God that Van Note is so trusty a sailor as you say!" said Mary, buttoning her furs closer to her throat. "They're back in a safe harbor, I doubt not." Joe and Doctor Dennis exchanged significant glances as they stood by the mare, and then looked again out to sea. "Best get her home," said Joe, in a whisper. Doctor Dennis nodded, and they made haste to bring the gig up to the horse-block. Old Phebe Trull had been standing stirless since the gust passed. She drew a long breath when Mary touched her, telling her to come home with them. "That was a sharp blow. I'm an old Barnegat woman, an' I've known no such cutters as that. But he'll come. I'm expectin' my boy to-night, young woman. I'm goin' to the beach now to wait for him,--for Derrick." In spite of the queer old face peering out from the yellow sun-bonnet, with its flabby wrinkles and nut-cracker jaws, there was a fine, delicate meaning in the smile with which she waved her hand down to the stormy beach. "What's that?" said Doctor Dennis, starting up, and holding his hand behind his ear. His sandy face grew pale. "I heard nothing," said Mary. The next moment she caught a dull thud in the watery distance, as if some pulse of the night had throbbed feverishly. Bow-legged Phil started to his feet.