Scarce I had seen the thing, but the door was thrown violently open, and Ambrose came dashing in.
“Clayton!” cried he, terror in his staring eyes, “Clayton!”
“An earthquake!” cried I, “Was’t an earthquake?”
“Ay,” answered he. “Haste! Come on! If there come another, we shall be entombed!”
I put on a great cloak, and we hasted out. The passage was full of men scantly dressed, making towards the door. They cursed and swore, as they shoved one another along helter-skelter.
Ambrose and I reached the great door, and in a trice stood without in the darkness of the night. ’Twas dark indeed! There was no moon nor stars. The air was hot and heavy, and seemed to throb in our ears.
Suddenly there came a jag of lightning that rent the black heaven like a scroll; and the thunder scarce had ceased to roll, but, flash upon flash, and jag upon jag, the lightning came continuously, as if it would seam and scar and melt the firmament! The earth did crack and crack as it came to ground.
There came a sudden, mighty flaw of wind; and then fell the rain!
It fell in flows and cataracts, crashing upon the trees of the wood like an avalanche, driving the fugitives back into the passage.
Yet the outrageous tempest held not long, ceasing as suddenly as it had begun. Hereupon some were for returning to their beds; but all trembled, wavering in their minds. Ambrose and I made towards the wood, which was all shattered and tumbled together, and the path quite gone. With much ado, however, we contrived to get through it, or rather over it; for often we were obliged to climb.