“I pity anybody who’s caught in this out in the open,” said Migwan. “I believe the wind is strong enough to blow a horse over. I wonder where Calvin is now.” Calvin had gone to the city with Farmer Landsdowne on business and intended to remain all night.
“He’s probably all right if he has reached those friends of the Landsdownes’,” said Hinpoha.
“The Smalleys are out, too,” said Sahwah. “I saw them drive past after dark, going toward town, just before it began to blow so terribly. Oh, listen! What do you suppose that was?” A crash in the yard told them that something had happened to the barn. Gladys was in great distress about the car, and had to be restrained forcibly from running out to see if it was all right. The wind continued the greater part of the night and nobody thought of going to bed. By morning it had spent its force.
Then they looked out on a scene of destruction. The garden was piled with branches and trunks of trees, and strewn with clothes that had been hanging on wash-lines somewhere along the road. Up against the porch lay a wicker chair which they recognized as belonging to a house some distance away. Everywhere around they could see the corn and wheat lying flat on the ground, as if trodden by some giant foot. The roof of the barn had been torn off on one side and reposed on the ground, more or less shattered. The car was uninjured except that it was covered with a thick coating of yellow dust. It was well that they had thought to pick the tomatoes, for the vines and the frames which supported them were demolished. All the telephone wires were down as far as they could see.
Calvin was not to return until night, and they felt no great anxiety about him, but often during the day a disquieting thought came to Migwan. This was about Uncle Peter, the man who lived in the cottage among the trees. Suppose something had happened to him? From Sahwah’s report, the house was very old and frail. She watched the Red House closely for signs of life, but apparently the Smalleys had not returned. The doors were shut and there was no smoke coming out of the kitchen chimney.
“Nyoda,” said Migwan, finally, “I’m going over and see if that old man is all right. I can’t rest until I know.”
“All right,” said Nyoda, “I’m going with you.” Sahwah was over at Mrs. Landsdowne’s, but they remembered her description of the approach to the cottage, and made the detour around the field where the bull was and the marsh beyond it, coming up to the cottage from the other side. It was still standing, although the big tree beside it had been blown over and lay across the roof.
“Would you ever think,” said Migwan, “that there was anyone living in there? I could pass it a dozen times and swear it was empty, if I didn’t know about it.”
“Well,” said Nyoda, the house is still standing, “so I suppose the old man is all right.”
“I wonder,” said Migwan. “He may have been frightened sick, and he may have nothing to eat or drink, now that the Smalleys are kept away. We’d better have a look. He can’t hurt us. If Sahwah spent the whole afternoon with him we needn’t be afraid.”