Tom turned the plane and headed it back toward the hangar. "No flyin' today," he said. "Look at that sky!"
The boys helped him put the plane away, then they sauntered up to the school. A flash of lightning split the sky.
"Funny time of year for lightning," said Bill.
"It is, at that!" answered Ernest. "But it looks to me as though we were going to have a real electrical storm. Let's get under cover."
They raced up the hill and into the building just as the storm descended in good earnest. As Bill hurried to his room to shut the window, the boy in the telephone booth called him.
"Telegram for you," he said, shoving the message through the wicket. Bill signed the slip with a hand that shook a little. His mother! She was his first thought. But her name was at the foot of the message which proved to be a night letter.
"Lee will be taken to Leavenworth on Tuesday," it ran. "Circumstantial evidence too strong. He is in a dreadful state but promises me to take it like a soldier. Wish that you were here, but am told the quarantine is absolutely strict. Will see you Thanksgiving if possible. Love. Mother."
Bill turned abruptly and went after Ernest. No one had seen him. Presently he gave up the search and went to his room where he found everything in the greatest disorder and a gale sweeping clothing, papers and bedding from their places. He closed the window and straightened up the place, moving the two army lockers to a new and better position and rearranging his desk. He was too worried and restless to work, so he went to the window, and leaning against the sash, watched a spectacular storm sweep across the valley. In the distance he could see the trolley cars struggling against the blast, but presently they were seen no more. Great branches broke from the trees and whirled through the air. The steel flag-pole before the main building bent perilously and, as Bill watched, a row of telephone poles went toppling over. Blacker and blacker grew the air, and at last with a crash the rain fell. Bill drew a chair and moodily stared out into the whirling wet landscape.
All day the storm raged and Bill, worried and irresolute, sought Ernest. It was not until supper time that he found him.
He had shut himself in the clubroom over the grill and had been boning for an examination. Mess over, they wandered out on the terrace. The storm was over, completely and wholly. The air was clear, the sky cloudless. A gentle breeze fanned them. Trolley wires, telephone poles and trees lay in every direction, with here and there a rolled-up tin roof. It had been bad enough while it lasted.