to expect from them. From the hunters he expected but little. The
Indians were wary hunters, and game would be shy if not scarce.

The great cloud of birds he had seen at sunset was a hopeful
sign. Arthur vaguely remembered stories of great flocks of
wood-pigeons which had been exterminated, as the buffalo was
exterminated. As he considered the remembrance became more clear.

They had flown in huge flocks which nearly darkened the sky. As late
as the forties of the nineteenth century they had been an important
article of food, and had glutted the market at certain seasons of
the year.

Estelle had said the birds he had seen at sunset were
pigeons. Perhaps this was one of the great flocks. If it were really
so, the food problem would be much lessened, provided a way could be
found to secure them. The ammunition in the tower was very limited,
and a shell could not be found for every bird that was needed,
nor even for every three or four. Great traps must be devised, or
bird-lime might possibly be produced. Arthur made a mental note
to ask Estelle if she knew anything of bird-lime.

A vague, humming roar, altering in pitch, came to his ears. He
listened for some time before he identified it as the sound of the
wind playing upon the irregular surfaces of the tower. In the city
the sound was drowned by the multitude of other noises, but here
Arthur could hear it plainly.

He listened a moment, and became surprised at the number of
night noises he could hear. In New York he had closed his ears to