Squib and His Friends

by Evelyn Everett-Green

For some days it had been very hot indeed—so hot that the little boy had felt indisposed for anything but to lie about in idleness, and even the goats had done little but crowd together in the shelter of the rock and nibble a little bit of grass in quite a lazy way. The dogs seemed to enjoy the sultry weather most, lying side by side in the sun and basking there to their hearts’ content; but sometimes it became too hot even for them, and they would retire panting into the shade with their tongues out, or trot down to the brook for a drink.

Hitherto the summer had been very fine and calm. Once or twice the boys had heard a rumble of thunder far away, but it had never come near them. Seppi had told Squib many stories of the violence of the summer thunder-storms in his valley, and Squib had wished he might see one; and now it seemed as if this wish were to be gratified.

It was the fifth of these very hot days. Squib thought it was the hottest day he ever remembered in his life, and wondered if India could be hotter. He and Seppi had to get under the great rock, where the shade was densest, for the pine trees did not afford nearly enough shelter.

The sky was cloudlessly blue, and the mountains opposite looked nearer than they had ever done before. The Silent Watchers seemed to have even advanced a few steps nearer each other, and Squib felt that if any persons had been climbing their shining white sides, he would have been able to watch their movements. There was a great silence over the world, and, as Squib expressed it, “everything sounded hollow.” He could not well have explained what he meant by this obscure saying; but Seppi understood in a moment, and said,—

“Yes, I think there will be a storm by-and-by. We must watch for it. If it comes it will be a bad one.”

“I should like to see a bad storm,” said Squib; but Seppi shook his head doubtfully.

“They are not always nice. Sometimes they are rather dreadful. Mother did not much like me to go so far to-day; but I knew you would be here.”

“Yes, I didn’t know you ever stayed away. But if you would like to be nearer your home—”

“Oh, I don’t mind. If it looks like a storm we will move. But it is too hot now. I think Moor will know if one is coming. He is so sensible.”

Both dogs were rather uneasy, though, perhaps, not more so than was accounted for by the great heat. They kept out of the sun’s rays to-day, and sometimes paced or moved about as if unable quite to get comfortable.