And indeed, had Lightning Jo suspected the appalling danger which was already gathering over his brave band, he would have gone a thousand miles before venturing a rod into that ravine!
CHAPTER XVIII. SHUT IN.
The little party of horsemen had scarcely begun their passage through the hills, when it became evident that they were to encounter the storm of which Lightning Jo had spoken. The warm air became of chilly coldness, and blew in fitful gusts against their faces, the sky was rapidly overcast by dark, sweeping clouds, and the rumbling thunder approached nigher and nigher, rolling up from the horizon like the “chariot-wheels over the court of heaven,” while the forked lightning darted in and out from the inky masses, like streams of blood. A few screeching birds went skurrying away in a cloud of dust, and the appearance of every thing left no doubt of the elemental tumult that was on the eve of breaking forth.
“We’re going to catch it, you bet,” remarked Jo, as he looked up at the marshaling of Nature’s forces, clapping his hands to the top of his head, as if fearful that his cap would be whirled out of sight by the tornado-like gust of wind, “but it would be worse out on the perarie than down here.”
He had to shout to make himself heard, although the lovers, Egbert and Lizzie, were riding close to him.
The former shouted back the return in the question:
“Can we not find shelter before the storm comes? We shall all be drenched to the skin, if we are exposed to the deluge for the space of five minutes.”
“Certainly, we can find shelter, and that’s just what I’m going for this minute. We’ll make it afore the deluge comes. If we’d been on the perarie we’d had to hold our hair on, and we’d have got such a basting that it would have taken a lifetime to git over it.”
“Couldn’t we have found shelter in the wagons?” yelled Egbert.