CHAPTER XXXIII.
FRED LINDEN AWAKENS TO AN ALARMING FACT.
The approach of the cyclone was attended by an appalling roar, and a mass of branches and trees flying through the air, which warned the boys of their danger.
"Terry, it won't do to stay here," shouted Fred, casting about for some place of refuge; "where shall we go?"
Quite close to the stream which they had just crossed was an enormous rock. Its irregular surface, a dozen feet in extent each way, must have reached far down in the ground, so that nothing could have been more immovable. It was not the refuge that the boys would have taken, had they been given time to hunt for one, but surely they could not have found a better.
A couple of leaps took Terry to the place, and, as he threw himself on his face, Fred was directly behind him. As they lay, the shelving rock was less than two feet above their heads. Though they could hear, they could not see what was coming. They could look to the right and left, but only for a few seconds in front.
Using their eyes as best they could, they saw the air filled with leaves, twigs, branches, huge limbs and trunks, which spun forward and over and over, like so many feathers in a tornado.
The first shock that came to the boys crouching behind the rock was a dead thump near their heads. An uprooted tree had been hurled from some point above, like an enormous spear, and, striking the rock at a slant, slid over the rough surface like the finger of a player over the face of a tambourine and out beyond, hunting for some spot where it could penetrate. It found it on the ground, but it was instantly wrenched loose by the resistless power that had first thrown it forward, and went end over end into the general wreck and ruin beyond.