Meanwhile word was sent by unknown code through the surrounding forest to all its inhabitants that a great and portentous event had occurred.  Not long before they had welcomed the departure of the strange intruder, who had come and cut down the forest and built the house.  Then, with the instinct that leaped into the future, they saw the forest and themselves claiming their own again; the clearing would soon be choked with weeds and bushes, the trees would grow up once more, the cabin would rot and its roof fall, and perhaps the bear or the panther would find a cozy lair among its timbers.

Now the strange intruders had come again.  The fox, creeping to the edge of the clearing, saw with his needlelike eyes a red gleam through the chinks of the cabin.  The red gleam smote him with terror, and he slunk away.  The wolf, the rabbit, and the deer came; they, too, saw the red gleam, and fled, with the same terror striking at their hearts.  All, after the single look, sank back into the shadows, and the forest was silent and deserted.  Paul and Henry, as they slept, were guarded by a single gleam of fire from all enemies save human kind.

But as the night thickened there had been a whirring in the air not far away.  An hour earlier the twilight had been deepened by something that looked like a great cloud coming before the sun.  It was a cloud that moved swiftly, and it was made of a myriad of motes, closely blended.  It resolved itself soon into a vast flock of wild pigeons, millions and millions flying southward to escape the coming winter.

Presently they settled down upon the forest for the night, and all the trees were filled with the chattering multitude.  Often the bough bent almost to the ground beneath the weight of birds, clustered so thick that they could scarcely find a footing.  The fox and the wolf that had looked at the lone cabin came back now to seek, an easier prey.

Henry Ware slept until far after midnight, and then he awoke easily, without jerk or start.  The fire had burned down, and a deep bed of coals lay on the hearth.  Paul still slept, and when Henry touched him he found that he had ceased to perspire.  No trace of the fever was left.  Yet he would be very weak when he awoke, and he would need nourishing food.  It was his comrade’s task to get it.  Henry took his rifle and went outside.  The moon was shining now, and threw a dusky silver light over all the forest.  He might find game, and, if so, he resolved to risk a shot.  The chances were that no human being save himself would hear it.  He felt rather than saw that nothing had happened while he slept.  No enemy to be feared had come, while all his own strength and elasticity had returned to him.  Never had he felt stronger or more perfectly attuned in body and mind.