She raised another wire strand for Louise to roll beneath. Her own sweater caught on the sharp barbs, tearing a large hole as she jerked free.
Dust had begun to blow. Trees and bushes bowed before the first gusts of wind.
Glancing frantically about for a place of refuge, Penny saw a low, circular cement hump rising from the ground not many yards distant. Instantly she recognized it as an old fashioned storm cellar.
“We’ll get in there, Lou!” she shouted. “Come on!”
Running across the yard, they reached the cave. Entrance was guarded by a door built in the side of the cement dome. A brass padlock hung unsnapped in the hasp.
“Thank goodness, we can get in,” gasped Louise. “Hurry!”
Penny tugged at the heavy door. It would not raise, and then it gave so suddenly that she nearly tumbled backwards.
The door clattered back against the cement dome. Through the rectangular opening protruded the head and shoulders of Peter Fenestra. His face was convulsed with rage.
“What are you trying to do?” he demanded harshly. “Speak up!”