"Thrue for ye! but this bit o' a steeple ud be a foine risting-place for the lightnin's fut, an' a moighty hot fut it has, too—bad 'cess to it!"
The man had been interrupted by another vivid flash and a sharp crack of thunder.
The mountains to the north and west were now entirely hidden, and the near hills were disappearing rapidly behind the on-coming storm of rain. Already the first drops were rattling sharply on the breaker's roof, and warning puffs of wind were beating gently against the side of the shaft-tower.
"I'm glad Ralph's no' workin' i' the screen-room," said Bachelor Billy, as he put up his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding glare. "It'd be a fearfu' thing to ha' the breaker hit."
The fury of the storm was on them at last. It was as though the heavens were shattered.
Billy looked out upon the dreadful onslaught of the elements with awe and wonder on his face. His companion crouched against the timbers of the shaft in terror.
Then—lightning struck the breaker.
People who sat in their houses a mile away started up in sudden fright at the fierce flash and terrible report.
A man who was running toward the engine-room for shelter was blinded and stunned by the glare and crash, and fell to his knees.
When he rose again and could use his eyes, he saw men and boys crowding from the building out into the pouring rain. But the breaker was on fire. Already the shaft-tower was wrapped in smoke and lighted with flame. Some one in authority stood in the door of the engine-room giving orders.