"Anton," he said, "I wish you'd come here a minute."
Struck by his companion's tone, the younger lad looked up and, grasping his crutch, limped to the door. He took a glance at the sky and whistled in a low and thoughtful way.
"Look at those clouds to the north-west," said Ross. Then, pointing to the south-west quarter, "And look at them there!"
Anton looked, his eyes dilating. In the north-west, swarthy, curling wreaths of vapor that seemed as though they rose from a monstrous burning straw-stack writhed their way upward to a great height, the upper portion seeming to tremble threateningly, as though there were a shaking fist within the swirl, hidden by clouds. The column was smoky and threatening, yet a whitish light came from beneath it suggesting phosphorescent vapors.
True tornado forming in advance of a dust whirl.
Courtesy of U.S. Weather Bureau.
