The storm had come at an angle to the road, so the wreckage of the town had blown the other way, but where its buildings had stood, with the tall brick factory in their midst, the skyline was now absolutely empty.
They came on Laurence's horse, tied to a fallen tree, and then Laurence himself came running toward them, out of a group of men who were lifting timbers. Mary was out of the buggy and in his arms in a moment, sobbing on his shoulder, clinging to him wildly, the rain falling on her bare head. She hid her face against his wet coat, not to see the desolation around her. But then after a little she raised her head and looked over his shoulder, her eyes full of the terror of death that had passed so near, that had threatened to strike to her heart....
A rubbish-heap, in which men were frantically digging for the wounded and dead, was all that was left of the town. A heap of splintered boards and bricks, with pitiful odds and ends of household furniture mixed in. Not a wall was standing, not one brick left on another, all was levelled to the earth.
The wind had roared away across the prairie and there, somewhere in the midst of vast spaces, it would vanish. Over beyond, now, near the horizon, a rift had opened in the grey clouds, and through it was visible a long belt of blue sky—serene, limpid, smiling.
PART TWO
I
Carlin walked with a quick firm step across the square from the courthouse to his office in the bank building. His usually ruddy face was pale, his eyes gleamed with excitement under the brim of his soft felt hat. He made his way through the crowd that filled the street before the jail without halting, shaking off impatiently some attempts to stop him, nodding or shaking his head for all answer to questions shouted at him.