The menagerie tent had been struck, the canvas and poles being loaded into wagons, and the vehicles started toward the train. There only remained up the big tent, and as fast as the performers finished they packed their costumes in trunks, which were carted away.
“Well, we’re done,” said Sam to Jack, as the clowns finished their turns. “Let’s pack up and get into the car. It’s going to be a bad storm.”
“I thought we had had enough rain,” observed the boy.
“So did I, but you never can tell much about the weather this time of year.”
They donned their regular clothes, and, having packed their trunks, went outside of the dressing-tent. As they did so the whole western sky seemed to burst into a sheet of flame. At the same time there was a loud clap of thunder.
“Here it comes!” cried Sam. “Let’s get inside the tent.”
No sooner had they gotten under the shelter of the big canvas than the rain came down in torrents. The storm suddenly broke in all its fury.
There was incessant lightning, and the thunder was terribly loud. The wind swayed the big stretch of tent, and women began to scream in fright.
“There’ll be a panic in a minute,” said Sam, looking rather alarmed. “I guess this will end the show.”
It did, for no one cared to look at the races while such a storm was in progress. The crowd began leaving, and men, at the direction of Mr. Paine and his assistants, began taking up the board seats, the rattle and bang of the planks adding to the din and confusion.