As Lonsdale backed the car out of the way, the Colonel’s ever ready courtesy came forth.
“So this is your uncle?” he asked, kindly nodding to the quiet elderly man who sat beside Will White, his face perhaps a trifle pale.
“I’m named for him,” vouchsafed Will, his drawl was must pronounced. Then: “Are you in trouble, Colonel?”
Quickly the whole auto load reached the same decision. They would say nothing of their search to this village gossip unless they found themselves powerless. Then they would wake the town. So with a curt denial and a hasty apology for blocking the traffic, the larger car sped on.
Finally, Crocker stopped at a farmhouse and roused the farmer from his sleep by many bangs against the door.
The farmer came down cross and sleepy, but at least Crocker got from him the information that they had heard no auto pass that evening. “And only a fool would be out a night like this,” added the man as he slammed the door.
The rain was now beating down and in a minute it was falling in such torrents that the road could not be seen an inch ahead. The roar of the thunder came the moment the zigzag flash was seen gashing across the sky, and even as they gazed in helpless awe, they saw a giant oak ripped limb from limb by the lightning.
Josie O’Gorman shrank back and hid her face. Colonel Hathaway, drawn and gray at the thought of his beloved grandchild out in all the horror of the elements, breathed a prayer for her safety. The two men on the front seat tried in vain to light cigars, and vigorously cursed the luck that brought this storm which would wipe away all traces of the runaway car.
The roadway was now a veritable river, the water surging down from the hill above and whirling about the wheels of the car. It was impossible to stay where they were, so with infinite care, Lonsdale finally turned them about. Then splashing through the flood, feeling every inch of the road, they slowly made their way toward home.
Because of its fury, the storm spent itself quickly. It was with intense relief that they noticed the first signs of first abatement in the slackening of the rainfall and the lessening of the wind. The thunder was already rumbling in the distance, and a whippoorwill sang refreshed from a tree near by. Only the roaring floods along the highway and the stripped oak standing stark and naked in the gathering moonlight remained to show the destruction of that night.