"We must get there at once," said Alan. He gestured toward Lentz. He whispered: "That fellow--I may be wrong, but I don't trust him." We could not agree on where we were, or which way might be the tower. "Oh, Lentz!" He came closer to us. Alan whispered: "Which way would you say?" The patch of starlight overhead was too small to help us. I suggested: "I'll climb one of these trees. If I can see the camp fire at Turber's--" But it would take too long. By now there was undoubtedly a Turber party of Indians in these woods searching for us. They might cut us off from the tower, or locate the tower itself. "I think," said Lentz, "this way." To me it seemed that he was right. "But that's south," said Alan. I did not think so. Lentz said: "I led you wrong before--it was my mistake. But I am sure now." His frankness convinced us. We started. Lentz was leading; Alan and I guided Nanette. Slow, careful going. We made as little noise as we could. We came to a slight rise of ground. A distant gleam of water showed ahead of us. "Alan, look!" "That's the East River." "Yes, I think so." It seemed so; it was very faint through the trees. Lentz had not seen it--or he ignored it. But he heard that we had stopped; he turned and came back. "What is it?" "That water--the river off there! We're going wrong." I became aware that we were standing in a patch of starlight. "Not here, Alan! Don't stand here!" Almost in a panic we left the hillock and crouched in a thicket at its foot. Lentz whispered: "That river--that's to the east. Then Turber's aero is off there--the western river." He pointed behind us. "And then the tower would be this way." It seemed so. We started again at almost right angles to our former course. For what might have been half an hour we crept along. It was eerie. The woods seemed empty of all human life save ourselves. But in the silence, the insect life screamed with tumultuous voices. * * * * * We heard, in the distance, the mournful hooting of an owl. Or was it an owl? Was it, perhaps, some Indian signaling? My nerves were tense; I was trembling, straining my eyes to see, and my ears to hear. It was difficult, keeping Nanette from falling. It seemed as though the noise we made must reverberate through all these woods. How far we went I do not know. It seemed miles. A glow of light showed ahead of us! The tower? We stopped. Not the tower. Why--a stockade! A high picket fence. A building. A northern outpost of New Amsterdam!