“And would you let Enola perish?”
“No, not if the giving of my life would save hers,” said Mr. Bruce, “but to throw myself into that howling vortex, would mean instant death, and in no way could I help Enola. We must wait until the storm abates and then look for our friend. She has the protection of the only living thing which can help her now, her good friend, Gip. God grant that his powerful strength may prove mightier than the power of the storm,” and as he finished speaking, Mr. Bruce raised his hand to his eye and brushed away a tear.
Onrai turned away and paced the long hall like a caged lion, his hands crossed behind his back, and his body slightly bent forward, as if ready to spring through the open entrance and run, as soon as the elements would permit. Harry, who was also crazed with pain because of the fate of Enola, was also on the alert to give Onrai a race in his rush to rescue his friend.
The storm grew fiercer each moment and the noise more fearful. Mr. Graham stepped up to Mr. Bruce and with a white face, said, “No human being could possibly live in that storm; it is fearful.”
“Yes, the most terrible I have ever seen,” said Mr. Bruce. “But let us hope that in some way Enola has reached safety.”
“If I could only hope; but I cannot, that storm would kill every hope,” said Mr. Graham.
“Enola was not in the heart of the storm,” said Mr. Bruce. “She was not carried into the centre of that seething, swirling tornado. She was only in the outer edge, and maybe the elephant was sagacious enough to work its way out of danger. Let us hope so at least.”
But hope seemed futile when they looked into that fearful on-rushing storm.
“Look,” said Mr. Bruce. They all turn toward the door. The elephants had gathered beneath the trees in one corner of the garden, and here, bunched together they had resisted the storm, but as Mr. Bruce spoke, the storm had reached the height of its fury, and the elephants no longer being able to withstand its power had been blown forward, some of them falling and the others tumbling over them. Those that were able to keep their feet had been rushed forward with such force, that in striking the trees they were crushed and badly wounded; those that were left prone on the ground were rolling over and over in their efforts to regain their feet, the wind blowing them over again before they could stand erect.
Most of the zebras had run to the stables when they actually realized their danger, but others, which had remained to graze the fresh grass until too late, had been drawn into the circling, whirling mass and hurried on.