"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.