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the yellow chains of lights on the Bay Bridge； and still farther through the faint evening mist； the glow of the San Francisco lights and the fainter chains on the Golden Gate Bridge。 Even the trafficlights were still working； changing from green to red。 High upon the bridge…towers the flashes silently sent their warnings to airplanes which would no longer ever be flying。 （Far to the south； however； somewhere in Oakland； there was one wholly black section。 There； some switch must have failed； or some fuse have burned out。） Even the advertising signs； some of them at least； had been left burning。 Pathetically； they flashed out their call to buy； though no longer were there any customers left or any salesmen。 One great sign in particular； its lower part hidden behind a near…by building； still sent out its message Drink although he could not see what he was thus manded to drink。
He watched it； half…fascinated。 Drink…blackness。 Drink…blackness。 Drink。 〃Well； why not？〃 he thought； and going in； he came out again with a bottle of his father's brandy。
Yet the brandy had little bite； and brought no satisfaction。
in probably not the type；〃 he thought； 〃to drink myself to death。〃 He found himself really more interested in watching the sign that still flashed there。 Drink…blackness。 Drink blackness。 Drink。 How long would the lights burn？ What would make them go out in the end？ What else would continue？ What was going to happen to all that man had built up through the centuries and now had left behind him？
I suppose；〃 he thought again； 〃I ought to be considering suicide。 No； too soon。 I am alive； and so others probably are alive。 We are just like gas molecules in a near…vacuum； circulating around； one unable to make contact with the other。〃
Again a kind of dullness verging on despair slowly came settling upon him。 What if he did live on； eating as a scavenger at all those great supplies of food which were piled up in every storeroom？ What if he coul d live well and even if he could draw together a few other survivors？ What would it all amount to？ It would be different if one could pick half a dozen friends for fellow…survivors； but this way they would probably be dull and stupid people； or even vicious ones。 He looked out and saw still the great sign flashing far off。 Drink…blackness。 Drink…blackness。 Drink。 And again he wondered how long it would keep flashing while there were no more vending…machines or salesmen offering whatever it was one was to drink； and from that he thought back to some of the other things he had seen that day； wondering what would happen to the coyote that he had seen loping along the highway； and what would happen to the cattle and horses standing by the watering…trough beneath the slowly revolving spokes of the windmill。 How long indeed would the windmill still revolve and pump its water from the depths of the earth？
Then suddenly he gave a quick start； and he realized that he had again a will to five！ At least； if he could be no more a participant； he would be a spectator； and a spectator trained to observe what was happening。 Even though the curtain had been rung down on man； here was the opening of the greatest of all dramas for a student such as he。 During thousands of years man had impressed himself upon the world。 Now man was gone； certainly for a while； perhaps forever。 Even if some survivors were left； they would be a long time in again obtaining supremacy。 What would happen to the world and its creatures without man？ That he was left to see！
Chapter 2
Yet； after he was in bed； no sleep came to him。 As the chilly arms of the summer fog lapped around the house in the darkness； he felt first loneliness； and then fear； and finally panic。 He rose from his bed。 Wrapping himself in a bathrobe； he sat before the radio； frantically searching the bands。 But he heard only； far…off； the rasp and crackle of static； and there was no one。
With a sudden thought he tried the telephone。 As he lifted the receiver； he heard the low hum of the clear wire。 He dialed desperately a number…any number！ On some distant house he heard the telephone ring； ring again。 He waited； thinking of the sound echoing through empty rooms。 After it had rung ten times； he hung up。 He tried a second number； and a thirdand then no others。
Working with a new thought； he rigged up a light with a reflector； and standing on the front porch； high above the city； he sent the flashes into the night…short…short…short； long…long…long； short…short…short…the old call of the SOS； which had gone out so often from despairing men。 But there was no reply from all the expanse of the city。 After a while he realized that with all the street…lights still burning there was too much illumination； his own petty flashing would hardly be noticeable。
So he went into the house again。 The foggy night sent a chill into him。 He turned on the thermostat； and in a moment he heard the whir of the oil…burner。 With electricity still working and a full tank of fuel…oil there was no trouble。 He sat； and after a while turned out the lights in the house； feeling in some strange way that they were too conspicuous。 He let the fog and the darkness wrap him round and conceal him。 Still he felt the fear of loneliness； and as he sat there； he laid the hammer close at hand； ready for grasping if there should be need。
A horrible cry broke the darkness！ He trembled violently； and then realized that it was only the call of a mating cat； the sort of sound which in any night one might have heard now and then； even on decorous San Lupo Drive。 The caterwauling rose to a climax； and then the growl of a charging dog cut across it； and the night was silent again。
For them the world of twenty thousand years was overthrown。 In the kennels； swollen…tongued； they lay dead of thirst…pointers； collies； poodles； toy pekinese； tall hounds。 The luckier ones； not confined； wandered loose through city and countryside； drinking at the streams； at the fountains； at the gold…fish ponds； hunting here and there for what they might find for eating…scurrying after a hen； picking up a squirrel in the park。 And gradually； the pangs of hunger breaking down the long centuries of civilization； they drew closer to where the unburied corpses lay。
Now no longer would Best…of…Breed go for stance； and shape of head； and markings。 Now Champion Golden Lad of Piedmont IV no longer outranked the worst mongrel of the alley。 The prize； which was life itself； would go to the one of keenest brain； staunchest limb； and strongest jaw； who could best shape himself to meet the new ways and who in the old petition of the wilderness could win the means of life。
Peaches； the honey…colored spaniel； sat disconsolate； growing weaker with hunger； too stupid to live by craft； too short…legged to live by pursuit of prey。。。 Spot； the children's mongrel pet； had the luck to find a liner of kittens and kill them； not for fun but for food 。。。。 Ned； the wire…haired terrier； who had always enjoyed being on his own and was by nature a tramp； managed to get along fairly well 。。。。 Bridget； the red setter； shivered and trembled； and now and then howled faintly with a howl that was scarcely more than a moan； her gentle spirit found no will to live in a world without master or mistress to love。
That morning he worked out a plan。 He felt sure that in an urban district of two million people others must be left alive。 The solution was obvious； he must find someone； anyone。 The problem was how to make contact。
First he set out to walk around the neighborhood； in the hope of discovering someone he knew。 But around the wellknown houses he saw no sign of people。 The lawns were parched； the flowers； wilting。
Returning home； he passed through the little park where he had often played as a boy； climbing the tall rocks。 Two Of them leaned together at the top to form a kind of little cave； high and narrow。 Ish had often played at hiding there。 It seemed a natural primitive refuge…place； and he looked into it。 There was no one。
He walked on across a broad surface of smooth rock that sloped with the hillside。 It was pitted with small round holes marking the places where squaws had once pounded with stone pestles。
〃The world of those Indians passed away；〃 he thought。 〃And now our world that followed theirs has passed too。 And am I the only one？〃
After reaching the house again； he got into his car； mapping out in his head a route to cover the city so that few areas would be left out of the sound of the horn。 He drove along； hooting the horn about every minute and then waiting； listening for some reply。 As he drove； he looked about curiously； appraising what had happened。
The streets had an early…morning look。 Many cars were parked； and there was little disorder。 Fires were burning here and there； as he could see by smoke…columns。 An occasional body lay where the man had finally been overe； and near one of them he saw two dogs。 At one street…er； the body of a man was hanging from the cross…arm of a telephone pole； conspicuously labeled with a placard Looter。 After he had passed this pole； he came to a good…sized business district； and then he noticed indeed that there must have been a certain amount of disorder。 The big window of a liquor…store was broken。
As he came to the end of the business district； he blew his horn again in his regular routine； and half a minute later he started to hear a faint honk from far away。 For a moment he thought that his ears might merely be tricking him。
He honked again quickly； and immediately this time he had a reply。 His heart sank…〃Echo！〃 he thought。 But then he honked again； a long and a short； and as he listened carefully the reply came merely one long。
He turned； and drove in the direction of the sound； which he estimated must be half a mile away。 Having driven three blocks； he honked again and waited。 More to the right this time！ He turned。 Twisting through the streets； he came to a blind end； turned around； and sought another way。 He honked； and the reply was closer。 Straight ahead this time he went on； overshot； and heard the next reply to the right and behind him。 He took another turn； and came to a small business district。 Cars were parked along the street； but he saw no one。 He thought it strange that whoever was signaling back to him did not stand in the street somewhere and wave。 He honked； and suddenly the reply was almost at his elbow。 He stopped the car； jumped out； and hurried along the sidewalk。 In the front seat of a car parked at the curb； he saw a man。 Even as he looked； the man collapsed and fell forward on the wheel。 The horn； pressed down； emitted a long squawk as the body slipped sideways to the seat。 ing closer； Ish smelled a reek of whiskey。 He saw the man with a long； straggly beard； his face bloated and red； obviously in the last stages of passing…out。 Ish looked around； and saw that the liquor…store close by was wide open。
In sudden anger； Ish shook the yielding body。 The man revived a little； opened his eyes； and emitted a kind of grunt which might have meant； 〃What is it？〃 Ish shoved the inert body to a sitting position； as he did so； the man's hand fumbled for the half…empty bottle of whiskey which was propped in the er of the seat。 Ish grabbed it； threw it out； and heard it splinter on the curbing。 He was filled only with a deep bitter anger and a sense of horrible irony。 Of all the survivors whom he might have found； here was only a poor old drunk； good for nothing more in this world； or any other。 Then as the man's eyes opened and Ish looked into them； he felt suddenly no more anger； but only a great deep pity。
Those eyes had seen too much。 There was a fear in them and a horror that could never be told。 However gross the bloated body of the drunkard might seem…somewhere； behind it all； lay a sensitive mind； and that mind had seen more than it could endure。 Escape and oblivion were all that could remain。
They sat there together on the seat。 The eyes of the drunken man glanced here and there； hardly under control。 Their tragedy seemed to grow only deeper。 The breath came raspingly。 On sudden impulse； Ish took the inert wrist and felt for the pulse。 It was weak and