"But come, come, don't let that worry you. We're safe, for the
present. Time enough to consider hunting later. Let's creep around
here to the other side of the tower, and see what we can see."

Silently she acquiesced. Together they reached the southern part of
the platform, making their way as far as the jumbled rocks of the
fallen railing would permit.

Very carefully they progressed, fearful every moment lest the support
break beneath them and hurl them down along the sloping side of the
pinnacle to death.

"Look!" bade Stern, pointing. "That very long green line there used to
be Broadway. Quite a respectable Forest of Arden now, isn't it?" He
swept his hand far outward.

"See those steel cages, those tiny, far-off ones with daylight shining
through? You know them--the Park Row, the Singer, the Woolworth and
all the rest. And the bridges, look at those!"

She shivered at the desolate sight. Of the Brooklyn Bridge only the
towers were visible.

The watchers, two isolated castaways on their island in the sea of
uttermost desolation, beheld a dragging mass of wreckage that drooped
from these towers on either shore, down to the sparkling flood.

The other bridges, newer and stronger far, still remained standing.
But even from that distance Stern could quite plainly see, without the