So absorbed had Enola and Onrai been in their talk that the storm had been forgotten for the moment. But it had not abated but had rather grown fiercer and blacker, until now it was so dark that objects only a short distance away could not be seen. The elephants could be heard stalking through the garden, and occasionally their huge bodies and also the zebras would be lit up by the lurid lightning. But the wind had died down to almost a calm a few moments before, and nothing had broken the stillness of the night but the sharp peals of thunder which would follow the brilliant lightning.
But as Onrai spoke, a rumbling was heard, not like distant thunder, but less distinct, like the rattling of a distant railway train, the sound being regular but growing louder each moment. The others of the party now joined Enola and Onrai, and the attendants grouped themselves about the terrace. There was no fear depicted on their faces, or shown in their actions, but there was the greatest wonderment. This was something unheard of, a storm like this promised to be, in the heart of the dry season; still fear was unknown to them, or that fear which is caused by a possibility of bodily suffering. They simply wondered and did not even try to make out the mystery.
Now the elephants seemed to scent danger, for they would sniff the air and then give out that peculiar cry. The zebras had gathered together in one part of the garden and would neigh in a pitiful manner as if expecting danger. The rumbling grew louder and more distinct and now sounded like the falling of many trees. The heavens were lurid with flash after flash of lightning, this lending a fearfulness to the scene which was awful. Now the elephants came up quite near to the terrace as if trying to find a place of refuge, and standing together with their backs turned toward the storm waited for the worst. Then the trees gave out a gentle wail as they were touched with the first breath of the wind; then they began to sway and groan as if in mortal agony. Each moment the wind grew more fierce, the lightning more vivid, the rumbling more deafening.
“Is this not unusual, Onrai?” asked Mr. Graham.
“It has never before happened at this time of the year,” said Onrai. “At this season we never expect rain and depend wholly on the heavy dews to moisten our vegetation.”
“It seems to be very fierce. Are your storms all like this?” asked Mr. Bruce.
“We have very hard storms accompanied by very strong winds, but I have never seen, or heard anything like this. Listen; is it not growing worse?” and Onrai’s face for the first time looked troubled.
“Yes, very much worse,” said Harry, “and I would advise that we all go inside the villa.”
“No, Harry,” said Enola, “let us remain outside until driven in. The sight is too grand to lose.”
“I am willing to remain but it is much safer inside during a storm like this,” said Harry.