ride off into the darkness. Presently there came a
dragging, bumping sound, then a crash of a log dropped upon the fire.
A cloud of sparks shot up, and many pattered down to hiss upon the damp
ground. Smoke again curled upward along the great, seamed tree-trunk,
and flames sputtered and crackled.

Helen listened again for the roar of wind. It seemed to come on a breath
of air that fanned her cheek and softly blew Bo's curls, and it was
stronger. But it died out presently, only to come again, and still
stronger. Helen realized then that the sound was that of an approaching
storm. Her heavy eyelids almost refused to stay open, and she knew if
she let them close she would instantly drop to sleep. And she wanted to
hear the storm-wind in the pines.

A few drops of cold rain fell upon her face, thrilling her with the
proof that no roof stood between her and the elements. Then a breeze
bore the smell of burnt wood into her face, and somehow her quick mind
flew to girlhood days when she burned brush and leaves with her little
brothers. The memory faded. The roar that had seemed distant was now
back in the forest, coming swiftly, increasing in volume. Like a
stream in flood it bore down. Helen grew amazed, startled. How rushing,
oncoming, and heavy this storm-wind! She likened its approach to the
tread of an army. Then the roar filled the forest, yet it was back there
behind her. Not a pine-needle quivered in the light of the camp-fire.
But the air seemed to be oppressed with a terrible charge. The roar
augmented till it was no longer a roar, but an on-sweeping crash, like
an ocean torrent engulfing the earth. Bo awoke to cling to Helen
with fright. The deafening storm-blast was upon them. Helen felt the
saddle-pillow move under her head. The giant pine had trembled to its
very roots. That mighty fury of wind was all aloft, in the tree-tops.
And for a long moment it bowed the forest under its tremendous power.
Then the deafening crash passed to roar, and that swept on and on,
lessening in volume, deepening in low detonation, at last to die in the
distance.

No sooner had it died than back to the north another low roar rose and
ceased and rose again. Helen lay there, whispering to Bo, and heard
again the great wave of wind come and crash and cease. That was the way
of this storm-wind of the mountain forest.

A soft patter of rain on the tarpaulin warned Helen to remember Dale's
directions, and, pulling up the heavy covering,