Three Boys in the Wild North Land

by Egerton Ryerson Young

Only for a short time did it last, and to judge by the feverish haste with which the Indians, under Mr Ross’s stern orders, worked, it was evident they knew the danger of this ominous calm, and what would speedily follow. Large logs were piled up as a barrier behind the improvised tent, while every rope available was used to tie down the poles which held up the roof of canvas and oilcloth. Poles were lashed across the top, and tied down with the fishing nets, which had to do as substitutes for something better. Guns were well wrapped up in the oilcloth covers, and, with the axes, were placed at a distance from the camp.

“Get under cover, and hold on to something fixed and strong!” shouted Mustagan, who had been on the lookout, and saw that the storm was close at hand.

And it was a storm! A strange greenish appearance came into the north-west sky, and then suddenly there was heard and seen the oncoming tornado. The clouds that during the calm had apparently become motionless in the heavens for a time suddenly became strangely broken and twisted, and then, as though impelled by some irresistible impulse, started with a speed that seemed incredible on their wild career. There seemed to roll up before them the strange green colour in the sky, which now appeared like a great monster on the crest of the coming clouds. Blacker, denser, and darker, on they came. Far away the sound of the storm could be heard, while now the forked lightnings and peals of thunder were almost incessant.

Crouching under the shelter was our party. Mr Ross and the three boys were in the centre, while the stalwart Indians took the outside positions, each man with a grip of iron upon the poles and canvas.

Very strange and very different were the sensations of the boys. “This is glorious!” said Alec, who had often, with his Highland friends, been caught in storms amid the hills of his beloved Scotland.

“Wait until it is over,” said the other boys, “and then we will tell you whether it is ‘glorious’ or not.”

“Hold on!” shouted Mr Ross. For, in almost an instant, a dark as like as midnight was on them, broken only by a vivid flash of lightning, while the very ground seemed to shake under the awful thunder. Then the storm in all its fury was upon them. How they escaped seemed a miracle. Great trees all around them were bent and twisted and broken, and went down in scores, until the air seemed full of the falling trunks and branches. Large branches fell upon the frail roof under which they were sheltered, but fortunately, while some holes were made, none of them were large enough to break through or injure them, and those that did fall on them were really a benefit, as they helped to hold down the canvas over them.

Fortunately these tornadoes are not of long duration. With a speed of perhaps over a hundred miles an hour they sweep along with irresistible power in their wild career.

Their fury is soon spent, and years may pass ere they occur again. As a very heavy fall of rain immediately followed this hurricane or tornado, our party were obliged to remain under their frail tent, which, in spite of the fury of the winds, thanks to the strong arms of the Indians, skillfully directed by Mustagan, had been kept from being blown away. However, some of the larger branches that had fallen upon it had pierced the roof in some places, and now, like out of a huge funnel, about a gallon of water suddenly struck Alec on the back of the neck, and caused him to change his position, while he fairly howled from the suddenness of the dousing.

“Is that sousing ‘glorious,’ Alec?” asked Frank, who was doing his best to dodge the little streams that through some other rents were trying to reach him.