"Not dead, anyhow--not _yet_!" A continuous roar of explosions shuddered the air, mingled with the booming of the mighty Falls.

Shouts and cheers and the rattle of machine-guns assailed his ear.

The glare of the search-lights, through the mist and steam, was darkened momentarily by thick, greasy coils of smoke, shot through by violent flashes of light as explosions took place.
Gabriel struggled to his feet, and peered about him, "Still alive!" said he.

"And I must get back into the fight! That's all that matters, now--the fight!" He knew not, yet, where he was; but this mattered nothing.

His machine had, in fact, fallen near the river bank, in the eastern section of Prospect Park, beyond the Goat Island bridge--this region of the Park having been left outside the fortifications, in the extension of the Air Trust plant.
The trees, here, had saved his life.