audacity. A gauntlet had
been thrown into the faces of both the Town and Settlement and they both
understood.

They sat perfectly still with astonishment while the performers were
being massed in the schoolhouse by the young teacher for their final
march out to the steps for the hymn singing with the beloved "Minister,"
which was to conclude the ceremonials.

And while the audience sat awaiting the further presentations to be
made them by their offspring, Mr. Goodloe came out the door and halfway
down the steps. Then suddenly he stopped and looked out over the valley
with such an expression on his face that with one accord his audience
rose and looked with him. And as it looked a groan came that was a
chorus melted into one voice of terror, while all of them stood helpless
with amazement. While we had all been sitting in the curious sweltering
heat, watching with pride a future for our children being foretold for
them by themselves, death had reared itself behind Old Harpeth, coiled
itself into a huge black spiral of thunder and lightning and was driving
down the valley upon Goodloets with a velocity that defied the eyes to
follow. For a long second every man and woman stood rooted to his
foothold on the earth and watched the tornado strike the edge of the
Settlement, smash down the saddlery as if it were a house of cards, and
churn the little tannery into the river. Then as it grasped the roof of
the Last Chance and began twisting it with a roar that grew in volume
every instant, Gregory Goodloe suddenly raised his hand and spoke in a
perfectly calm voice that rang out above the groan of the tortured
shanties of the Settlement which were crashing down against each other.

"Oh, God, we trust in the covert of thy wings," he prayed for a second
and then commanded: "Fall to the earth, all of you, and let it pass over
you!"

"The children!" came a cry that was a wail of parenthood, as we all sank
to the ground just as the terrible black monster tore the roof from the
Little House and hurled it toward us across the street. I saw a huge
rafter hurtle through the air and strike down Mark Morgan as he started
toward the steps of the schoolhouse, and by not a half inch did it miss
drunken, useless Mike Burns as it fell beside him. Then I covered my
eyes as the cloud and the wind passed over me and I only heard it strike
and rend and crash and tear the schoolhouse, beam from beam and stone
from stone. An eerie wail of the voi