“The Thunder took the long pipe from the mantel and lit it with a pine splinter, the flame of which flashed through the windows with dazzling brightness.
“‘Folks will say that is heat lightning,’ remarked the little girl.
“‘Yes,’ replied the Thunder; ‘farmers to the north of us will say there is going to be a drought, because of lightning in the south. Farmers to the south of us will say there’s going to be rain, because of lightning in the north. None of them knows that I am smoking my pipe.’
“But somehow, in turning around, the Thunder knocked the big tongs over, and they fell upon the floor with a tremendous crash. The floor appeared to give forth a sound like a drum, only a thousand times louder, and, although the little girl had her fingers in her ears, she could hear the echoes roused under the house by the falling tongs go rattling down the mountain side and out into the valley beyond.
“The Thunder sat in the big armchair smoking, and listening with legs crossed. The little girl appeared to be sorry that she had come.
“‘Now, that is too bad,’ said the Thunder. ‘The Whirlwind in the south will hear that and come flying; the West Wind will hear it and come rushing, and they will drag the clouds after them, thinking that I am ready to take my ride. But it’s all my fault. Instead of turning the winds in the pasture, I ought to have put them in the stable. Here they come now!’
“The little girl listened, and, sure enough, the whirlwinds from the south and the west came rushing around the house of the Thunder. The west wind screamed around the windows, and the whirlwinds from the south whistled through the cracks and keyholes.
“‘I guess I’ll have to go with them,’ said the Thunder, rising from the chair and walking around the room. ‘It’s the only way to quiet them.’
“‘Do you always wear your overcoat?’ the little girl asked.
“‘Always,’ replied the Thunder. ‘There’s no telling what moment I’ll be called. Sometimes I go just for a frolic, and sometimes I am obliged to go. Will you stay until I return?’