But the greatest proof of their affection for each other came at the time of the big storm. Storms about Lake Minnetaska are sometimes terribly severe, and one day, when the heat had been intense and the darkening sky took on a green tinge, Mrs. Wood told the children to run for the cyclone cellar. This was a little cave, built under the cottage, where the family could be safe in case the cottage was blown away. In ordinary weather it served as a cool place for the milk.
The children were taught to watch for a funnel-shaped cloud, and a regular cyclone drill was arranged, so that each should do his part, and not be frightened in case the cyclone came. For Mrs. Wood said, “Being ready for an emergency doesn’t make it come any sooner.” And when at last it did come, the family was able to reach the cellar in the very shortest possible time.
Mrs. Wood took the family heirlooms, Biddy, her best bonnet, and Franklin, the dog; while Eunice and Kenneth had been cautioned not to try and save anything but themselves. Their mother had told them that the cats could stick their claws into trees, or lie down so flat that the storm would not even see them, and the rabbits would run into their holes.
When the storm broke, not a cat was in sight, but the kind-hearted Biddy found Mustard and Elijah sleeping in a box near the back door, and scooped them into her apron as she ran.
It was quite dreadful waiting there in the dark, with the shrieking of the wind above them, and crash after crash coming as things were blown down and swept away. Their cottage was not taken; but another one was, and the roof was ripped off the hotel. The piazza chairs spun by them, and were hurled over the tops of falling trees into a neighboring lot. Johnny’s house, with Johnny in it,—he had thought it was night, and gone to bed,—executed a dance before the cellar door, and then blew into the lake. Kenneth wept, and sat down in a pan of milk. It was terrible.
But Johnny’s house was afterwards fished out from under the dock, and Johnny himself was found roosting in a tree near the bank, for his house having no floor, he had been able to grasp this branch with his firm yellow legs, and allow his roof to take a swim without him.
“I think he meant to stay there always,” Franklin said, as he climbed the tree and brought him down. “He didn’t seem to be making any plans.”
Clytie and Ivanhoe turned up towards night, with eyes quite black from excitement, and, strange to say, Ivanhoe never had another fit after that experience. Franklin said, “I suppose the cyclone was so much bigger a fit than he could ever hope to have, that it kind of discouraged him!”
The children nearly stood on their heads trying to see into the rabbit-holes, and, diving into one of them, Franklin pulled out two struggling balls of fur, that kicked mud in every direction.
“Oh, the dear, dirty things!” said Eunice, embracing Vaseline and Oliver, until her face was well spattered from their indignant heels.