"Oh, we can go in the cyclone cellar," said Billy, almost yelling to be heard above the noise of the wind. "We've got a sort of underground cave where we sometimes take refuge if it gets blowing too bad. A cyclone has no effect on that."
The wind, which had been blowing in fitful puffs, now swooped down on the three lads with terrific force. They could feel the tremendous pressure of it, and in a few minutes they saw little clouds of dust caught up from the dry fields and whirled about in funnel-shaped masses.
"Whirlwinds!" yelled Andy.
"Little cyclones," shouted Billy. "It's coming here all right!"
The roaring and screaming of the wind now became louder, and, looking back, the lads saw the black cloud fairly rushing down on them.
"Use your quirts!" called Billy, swinging the short whip about his head, and bringing it down lightly on his horse. "Make 'em know they've got to make better time."
The horses, up to now, had not felt the lash, but even in the stress of speed the lads were merciful, and only swung the lashes lightly. But it was enough, along with the howling of the wind, and the curious hue of the atmosphere, for it had turned yellow, from the effect of so much dust in the air.
Leaping forward, the frightened horses carried their riders in advance of the storm. There came a few drops of rain, and, just as the gale burst in all its fury, the three raced into the ranch yard.
"Quick!" yelled Archie, who was on the lookout for them. "Into the cellar. It's going to be a screamer! I'll look after the horses!"
The steeds were trembling with fright as Archie fairly shoved them into the low stable, built of heavy logs capable of withstanding a fierce blow.