The shelter was reached.
The horse of the scout stood on the same level with the bottom of the canon; but, the rocky side of the latter, instead of sloping perpendicularly upward, inclined far out over their heads, so that the upper margin projected fully twenty feet further over than did the base, thus giving them the very protection for which they were so hastily seeking.
The party lost no time in arranging themselves beneath this roof, and in a few minutes the two wagons came lumbering up, the horses forced to a much more rapid gait then they had yet attempted.
They had barely time to reach the spot, when the bullet-like drops that had been pattering faster and faster, suddenly and prodigiously increased, and the storm broke forth.
The scene was fearfully sublime—and such as our pen scarcely dare attempt to depict. The rain came down in such blinding torrents that the top of the gorge was shut out from the view of the whites, and a dim, watery twilight gloom enveloped them all. The thunder, that had been somewhat diminishing for the last few minutes, now burst forth in rattling, tremendous discharges, as if heaven and earth were coming together—while the vivid, intense lightning seemed to be everywhere—rending rocks and trees, and playing along the canon in its arrowy flight, setting the whole air aflame.
All stood awed and hushed—no one daring to break the stillness, and scarcely moving during this war of the elements. It seemed as if it were blasphemy for man to seek to speak or interpose during the moments when nature herself was speaking in such trumpet-like tones.
But the storm was as short as it was violent; and, as the booming thunder retreated and gradually died away, in sullen reverberations, the fall of rain slackened, and just as the afternoon was drawing to a close, the last drop fell.
The appearance of the mustang and its strange rider seemed to have produced a remarkable effect upon Lightning Jo, who had lost all his vivacity and humor, and was thoughtful and silent.
“Are we to remain here all night or go forward?” asked Egbert, walking to where Jo stood, leaning against the rocks, with arms folded and moody brow.
“Go forward,” he replied, almost savagely, as he raised himself. “What do we want to stay here for?”