Mrs. Calvert looked out of the window and saw the storm clouds approaching and gathering for the downpour, and then her eyes wandered to the river beside which the train ran.
“Just look!” she exclaimed, pointing to the water. “Look, quick, at the river!”
“That is quite remarkable,” said Mr. Ludlow. “Just see how high the water is and how fast it is flowing.”
“Why it seems to be rising higher and higher by the minute as we go along,” responded Mrs. Calvert. “I can’t understand it, can you?”
“Oh!” shrieked Ruth at this moment, clinging to Mr. Dauntrey’s hand. “Oh, what an awful flash of lightning! Oh, how I hate an electric storm! Lightning scares me half to death.”
“I like it,” replied Alfy, looking across the dark, turbulent, swiftly moving stream. “I always like to watch it. And ‘up mounting’ we do have some awful storms. You remember them, don’t you, Dorothy?”
“Of course I do. Sometimes, though, I used to get a little scared. They used to be so very bad,” said the girl, and all the people in the car jumped as a loud crash of thunder followed a blazing streak of lightning. The thunder seemed right under their feet and was so loud and so sudden that all were startled for a minute.
Ruth jumped up and grabbed Mr. Ludlow around the neck and hid her face in his shoulder, moaning, “Oh, oh, I don’t like this at all.”
Mr. Ludlow, although he did not like to see the girl so overcome with nervousness, was decidedly happy that she should turn to him, and hoped perhaps that the storm would last forever, if he could continue to hold Ruth to him.
This awful clap was followed by another flash of lightning which lit up the car brighter than daylight. Mrs. Calvert, who was facing the window, looked out and gasped, “Oh, why don’t they stop the train?”