CHAPTER VIII.
THE STORM.
All day long the air was thick and murky. All day long there were signs of a gathering storm. Great big banks of fierce, sullen clouds began to bank up in the afternoon, and far-off, ominous sounds of thunder were heard. At first it was a mere growl, and the edges of the great jagged clouds were illumined by lightning. By-and-bye the thunder grew louder, and cruel forked and chain lightning began to play in the heavens.
The children wandered round the verandah and looked at the sky, and wondered and wondered again would it rain.
“I believe it’ll be the end of the drought,” said Mother, hopefully. Eva had a rug ready to cover her head when the thunder grew louder, for she was terrified of storms; and Baby and Doris would squeal that they were frightened.
Mollie and Eileen, too, hung in the background, blinking at each flash and sincerely hoping that it would soon be over. Old Joe was in his element, and talked volubly to Mother and Uncle.
“I said all along it’d break this way, same as the ’82 druith. There’s the same bank of clouds down west, and another storm abrewin’ over ’ere. They’ll meet directly, and there’ll be the deuce of a smash. Shouldn’t wonder if the creek ain’t up to-night——”
“Oh, Joe! wouldn’t it be lovely?” chimed in the children.
“An’ it’s more’n likely she will be. I recollect the time the ’82 broke. Why, all the rivers and creeks and gullies and gilgies and swamps were runnin’ mountains high!”
A low moaning sound reached their ears, and they looked at each other in alarm.
“Oh, Joe! what’s that?” asked Eva, creeping up to him.