slacker, and had now humiliated Helen for the second
time. The longer Festing thought about it, the angrier he got, and when
he roused himself as the horses plunged down the side of a ravine he was
surprised to note how far he had gone. He had just time to tighten the
reins and guide the team across the open log bridge at the bottom, and
as they plodded up the other side saw that he had better get home as
soon as possible.

The drooping leaves of the birches in the hollow flittered ominously,
and when he reached the summit a bluff that stood out from the plain two
or three miles off suddenly vanished. It looked as if a curtain had been
drawn across the grass. The horses set off at a fast trot, and the rig
jolted furiously among the ruts. It would not be dark for an hour, but
the gray obscurity that had hidden the bluff was getting near. At its
edge and about a mile off a pond shone with a strange sickly gleam.

Then a dazzling flash fell from the cloud bank overhead and touched the
grass. A stunning crash of thunder rolled across the sky, and the team
plunged into a frantic gallop. Festing braced himself in a vain attempt
to hold them, for the trail was half covered with tall grass and broken
by badger holes. He was soon breathless and dazzled, for the lightning
fell in forked streaks that ran along the plain, and the trail blazed in
front of the horses' feet. Thunder is common in Canada, but it is on the
high central plains that the storms attain their greatest violence.

The team plunged on, and Festing, jolting to and fro, durst not lift his
eyes from the trail. The storm would probably not last long and might do
some good if it were followed by moderate rain. But he was not sure that
moderate rain would fall. By and by a few large drops beat upon his hat,
there was a roar in the distance, and a cool draught touched his face.
It died away, but the next puff was icy cold, and the roar got louder.
He looked up, for he knew what was coming, but there was not a bluff in
sight that would shield him from the wind.

Turning down his hat-brim against the increasing rain, he let the horses
go. He need not try to hold them; the storm would stop them soon. It
broke upon him with a scream and a shower of sand and withered grass. He
staggered as if he had got a blow, and then leaned forward to resist
the pressure. The horses swerved, and he had trouble to keep them on the
trail, but their speed slackened and they fell into a l