“It sure is queer about lightning—the kind that comes out of a clear sky!” Blinkey Bill sat up quite suddenly.
“What’s that you all are a sayin’?” he demanded.
“I said it’s queer about lightning out of a clear sky.”
“I don’t believe there ever was any,” Ballard put in.
“Sure there were!” Blinkey Bill’s eyes were popping. “I saw hit my own self. Knocked me down. Might nigh kilt me, it did. I—”
He broke short off. His eyes shone like stars as he stared at the crest of the mountain, for there, sharp and distinct against a clear, black night sky, a flash of light went zig-zagging away. It was followed ten seconds later by a low, rumbling roar.
“Lightnin’! Lightnin’ out of a clear sky!” The look on Blinkey Bill’s face at that moment was a terrible thing to see.
“It does sort of seem like lightning,” Johnny said quietly.
“Seem like!” Ballard had not been let into the entire secret. “It IS lightning!”
“Shore! Shore hit’s lightnin’!” Blinkey Bill was trembling like a cottonwood leaf in a high wind.