Margaret Stevens was also wearing heavy shoes and a slicker while the doctor had put on knee length rubber boots and a heavy ulster.
“We’ll get plenty of rain before we’re back,” he told the girls, “and we’ll have to walk where the roads are impassable.”
They stopped down town and Doctor Stevens ran into his office to see if any calls had been left for him. When he returned his face was grave.
“What’s the matter?” asked Margaret.
“I called the telephone office,” replied her father, “and they said all the phone wires west of the lake were down but that reports were a number of farm houses had been destroyed by the tornado.”
“Then you think someone may have been hurt?” asked Helen.
“I’m afraid so,” admitted Doctor Stevens as he shifted gears and the sedan leaped ahead through the storm. “We’ll have to trust to luck that we’ll reach farms where the worst damage occurred.”
The wind was still of nearly gale force and the blasts of rain which swept the graveled highway rocked the sedan. There was little conversation as they left Rolfe and headed into the hill country which marked the western valley of Lake Dubar.
The road wound through the hills and Doctor Stevens, unable to see more than fifty feet ahead, drove cautiously.
“Keep a close watch on each side,” he told the girls, “and when you see any signs of unusual damage let me know.”