A low peal of thunder rolled up from the darkening horizon, and the sun disappeared behind the advancing clouds.
“That’s our notice to quit the premises. I shouldn’t want to ford Little Wolf in a storm. It is ugly enough 251 any time and was bank full when I took Rosie Posie over this morning. And say, her mother’s got a face like a brass bedstead.”
Thaine was lifting the buggy top as he spoke. Suddenly he exclaimed:
“Oh, Leigh, look down yonder.”
He pointed down the little rift toward the water.
“Where?” Leigh asked, looking in the direction of his hand.
“Across the creek, around by the side of that hill. That’s the Gimpke home stuck in there where you’d never think of looking for a house from up here. They can see anybody that goes up this lonely hill and nobody can see them. If I was gunning for Gimpkes, I’d lie in wait right here,” Thaine declared.
“Maybe, if the Gimpkes were gunning for you, they could pick you off as you went innocently up this Kyber Pass and you’d never know what hit you nor live to tell the tale; and they so snugly out of sight nobody but you would ever have sighted them,” Leigh replied. “But let’s hurry on. It will be cooler on the open prairie than down there along the creek trail. And if we are storm-stayed, we are storm-stayed, that’s all.”
“You are the comfortablest girl a fellow could have, Leighlie. You aren’t a bit scared of storms like—”
“Yes, like Jo. I can’t help it. I never was much of a ’fraid cat, but I don’t mind admitting I am fonder of water in lakes and rivers and water-color drawings than thumping down on my head from the little end of a cyclone funnel.”