Suddenly a blinding flash, accompanied by a sound like the sharp cracking of a whip and instantly followed by a deafening roar of thunder, drove her to her mother's side.
"Are you all right, mother? That bolt fell very near. I thought it struck the house."
"It was frightfully close," Mrs. van Warmelo answered.
"Come and sit beside me here. I am quite sure one of our big trees has been struck."
She was right, for walking through the demolished garden next morning, they came upon the spot where the bolt had fallen and found one of the gigantic willow trees furrowed from top to bottom, with the outer bark scorched and curled up like paper and the white bark showing underneath.
Jim was breaking down his little kitchen with all the speed he could.
"What are you doing, Jim?" Hansie asked.
"Jim's shifting," was the answer, soberly and sadly made.
"But the storm is over. All the danger is past. You can safely stay on now."
"No fear, little missie. The Big Baas was very cross last night, and when Him cross He don't care what He do. Jim want to live a little longer."