shed appeared as they hurried onward, while
the clouds mounted higher, and the rumble of thunder grew upon the air.
The sun had vanished, and a strange, anticipatory stillness enveloped
them, broken only by that hollow muttering.

"It's comin' up fast." Lou broke the silence with one of her seldomly
volunteered remarks. "Shall we git into the woods? I'd as lief dodge
trees as be drowned in the road."

"No!" Jim shook his head. "There is some kind of a shack just ahead
there; I think we can make it before the storm comes."

They were fairly running now, but the darkness was settling fast and a
fork of lightning darted blindingly across their path. The object which
Jim had taken for a shack proved to be merely a pile of rotting
telegraph poles, but no other shelter offered, and they crouched in the
lee of it, awaiting the onslaught of rain.

"Take this, Lou." Jim wrapped his coat about her in spite of her
protestations. "You're not afraid, are you?"

"No, I ain't--I'm not--but you're goin' to get soaked through! I heard
you coughin' once or twice at the bottom of that haystack last night."
He thrilled unconsciously to the motherliness in her tone. Then she
added reflectively: "I don't guess I'm afraid of anythin' I've seen yet,
but I ain't--I haven't seen much."

She ended with a sharp intake of her breath as a sudden gust of wind
whirled the dust up into their faces and another streak of white light
flashed before their eyes. Then with a rush and roar the storm burst.

The woods marched straight down to the roadside at this point, and the
trees back of the heap of poles moaned and writhed like tortured
creatures while great branches lashed over their heads with now and then
an ominous crackle, but it was lost in the surge of the winds and the
ceaseless crash and roar of the thunder. Jagged forks of lightning
played all about them like rapiers of steel, and at last the rain came.

The brim of Lou's hat, hopelessly limp since its cleansing of the
previous day, now flopped stringily against her face until she tore it
off and gasping, buried her head in her arms as the sheets of rain
pelted down. Jim's coat was sodden, and the thin cotton gown beneath
clung to her drenched body, but she crouched closer to the poles while
each volley of thunder shook her as with invisible hands.

Her lashes were glued to her cheeks, but she forced them open and turned
to see how Jim was faring. He had flattened himself against the po