Presently Herr Winklemann, who meant to ride with the parting guests a short way, and was also mounted, uttered a shout, and immediately horse and man rolled upon the plain. The man rose slowly, but the horse lay still—killed by lightning! By the same flash, apparently, another horse was struck dead.
“Vell, you has tomble very often vid me,” said the German, contemplating the fallen steed, “bot you vill tomble again no mor.”
“Oui, he is mort,” sighed Rollin, looking down.
After this first burst there was a considerable lull, but appearances were so gloomy that departure was delayed.
Soon after, the storm burst with a degree of violence that the oldest hunter said he had never before witnessed. Lightning, wind, rain, thunder, seemed to have selected the spot for a battle-ground. Although the camp was pitched on comparatively high and rocky ground, the deluge was so great that in the course of ten minutes nearly everything was afloat. (See Note 1.) The camp was literally swimming, and some of the smaller children were with difficulty saved from drowning. So furious was the wind that the tents were either thrown down or blown to ribbons. During the storm three of the Indian tents, or lodges, were struck by lightning. In one of these a Canadian was killed; in another all the inmates—an Indian, his wife, two children, and two dogs—were killed, and a gun beside them was melted in several parts as though it had been lead.
Then there fell a shower of hail, the stones of which were solid angular pieces of ice larger than a hen’s egg, by which some of the people were severely wounded before they found shelter under the carts and overturned tents.
It was a terrible display of the power of God, and yet, strange to say, so far is such a scene incapable of influencing man’s fallen nature for good, that occasions such as these, when the camp is in disorder, are often taken advantage of by Indians to approach and steal the horses.
Being well aware of this propensity of the red man, Baptiste Warder and his captains kept a sharp look-out. It was well they did so, for, after the storm, a formidable band of Sioux was discovered within a short distance of the camp.
Their wily chief was, however, equal to the occasion. He assumed the rôle of an injured man. He had come to remonstrate with the half-breeds, and charge them with cruelty.
“My warriors,” said he, “killed only one of your people, and for that one you murdered eight of my braves.”