A mass of lurid vapour shot downwards, taking on the general semblance of a balloon, as it swayed madly back and forth, an elongating trunk or tongue reaching still nearer the earth, with fierce gyrations, as though seeking to fasten upon some support.
Not one of that trio had ever before gazed upon just such another creation, yet one and all recognised the truth,—this was a veritable tornado, just such as they had read in awed wonder about, time and time again.
Neither one of the brothers Gillespie were cravens, in any sense of the word, but now their cheeks grew paler, and they seemed to shrink from yonder airy monster, even while watching it grow into shape and awful power.
Professor Featherwit was no less absorbed in this wondrous spectacle, but his was the interest of a scientist, and his pulse beat as ordinary, his brain remaining as clear and calm as ever.
“I hardly believe we have anything to fear from this tornado, my lads,” he said, taking note of their uneasiness. “According to both rule and precedent, yonder tornado will pass to the east of our present position, and we will be as safe right here as though we were a thousand miles away.”
“But,—do they always move towards the northeast, uncle Phaeton?”
“As a rule, yes; but there are exceptions, of course. And unless this should prove to be one of those rare ex—er—”
“Look!” cried Waldo, with swift gesticulation. “It's coming this way, or I never—ISN'T it coming this way?”
“Unless this should prove to be one of those rare exceptions, my dear boy, I can promise you that—Upon my soul!” with an abrupt change of both tone and manner, “I really believe it IS coming this way!”
“It is—it is coming! Get a move on, or we'll never know—hunt a hole and pull it in after you!” fairly screamed Waldo, turning in flight.