"Beat it for that building," she said, and gathering her torn skirts about her, set the example. They made it by the narrowest of margins, standing breathless in what had been the Peacock Alley of one of New York's finest hotels to see one of the great birds strut past the door like a clumsy caricature of an angel. "And poo-poo for you," said Murray, thumbing his nose at the apparition. "But what we'll do now I don't know." "Play pinochle till they come look us up," suggested Gloria. "Besides, my bullets are all gone." ... They waited all day, taking tentative glances from one or another of the windows. The birds remained invisible, apparently not caring for the prospect of a battle in the constricted space of the hotel rooms. But amid the rain and low-hung clouds they might be lurking just outside and both Murray and Gloria judged it too dangerous to venture a dash. As night came on, however, they made a try for the hotel's garage, achieved it without accident, and between them, rolled one of the cars to the door. "Wait," said Murray, as Gloria got in, "what was that?" "This dam' starter." She stirred her foot vigorously. "It won't work." "No. Wait." He held out a restraining hand. A sudden gust of wind bore a dash of rain down against them and with it, from the northeast, a far-away scream, then a tapping and a heavy thud. "Hot dog!" ejaculated Murray. "They're getting after the crowd. And at night, too." The car jerked forward suddenly as the starter caught. "Hold it," cried Murray. "Douse those headlights." They dodged the wreck of a street car, swung round a corner and headed for First Avenue, gathering speed. Another corner, taken on two wheels in the darkness, the way to the Institute lay before them. Suddenly a great flame of light sprang out in the sky, throwing the whole scene into sharpest relief. There was a crash of rifle-fire from window and door of the building and across the front of it one of the birds coasted past. Crash! In the street before them something like a bomb burst, vomiting pennons of fire. Gloria swung the wheel, swung it back; they had a mad glimpse of brilliantly burning flames inside one of the buildings across the street from the Institute, and then they were tumbling out of the car with rifle-fire beating all around them and the thud of dropping objects on either side. * * * * * Murray stumbled, but the door was flung open and they were jerked in, just as one of the huge bird forms flung itself down past them. "Thank God, you're safe," said Ben Ruby's voice. "They got Dearborn and Harris and they're besieging us here." He pointed out of the window across the street, where the rapidly-gaining fire was engulfing the building. "Did the birds do that little trick?" asked Gloria. "I hope to tell you, sister. You ain't seen nothing yet, either. They're shedding incendiary bombs all over the shop. How about Kevitz and Farrelly?"