trange sobs and
moans that on wild nights bring terror to the hearts of bush children.
A glimmer of lightning appeared through the cracks in the slabs. Old
Bob said he would go before it came on, and started into the inky
darkness.

"It's coming!" Dad said, as he shut the door and put the peg in after
seeing old Bob out. And it came--in no time. A fierce wind struck the
house. Then a vivid flash of lightning lit up every crack and hole,
and a clap of thunder followed that nearly shook the place down.

Dad ran to the back door and put his shoulder against it; Dave stood to
the front one; and Sarah sat on the sofa with her arms around Mother,
telling her not to be afraid. The wind blew furiously--its one aim
seemed the shifting of the house. Gust after gust struck the walls and
left them quivering. The children screamed. Dad called and shouted,
but no one could catch a word he said. Then there was one tremendous
crack--we understood it--the iron-bark tree had gone over. At last,
the shingled roof commenced to give. Several times the ends rose (and
our hair too) and fell back into place again with a clap. Then it went
clean away in one piece, with a rip like splitting a ribbon, and there
we stood, affrighted and shelterless, inside the walls. Then the wind
went down and it rained--rained on us all night.

Next morning Joe had been to the new fence for the axe for Dad, and was
off again as fast as he could run, when he remembered something and
called out, "Dad, old B-B-Bob's just over there, lyin' down in the
gully."

Dad started up. "It's 'im all right--I w-w-would n'ter noticed, only
Prince s-s-smelt him."

"Quick and show me where!" Dad said.

Joe showed him.

"My God!" and Dad stood and stared. Old Bob it was--dead. Dead as
Moses.

"Poor old Bob!" Dad said. "Poor-old-fellow!" Joe asked what could
have killed him? "Poor-old-Bob!"

Dave brought the dray, and we took him to the house--or what remained
of it.

Dad could n't make out the cause of death--perhaps it was lightning.
He held a POST-MORTEM, and, after thinking hard for a long while, told
Mother he was certain, anyway, that old Bob would never get up again.
It was a change to have a dead man about the place, and we were very
pleased to be first to tell anyone who did n't know the news about old
Bob.

We planted him on his own selection beneath a gum-tree, where for years
and years a family of jackasses nightly roosted, Dad remarki