“Well, I think you have got enough braided—you can use the rest for litter,” said Mrs. Allen.
Henry was delighted to hear this, for he was heartily sick of braiding husks. The bin was quickly emptied of its contents, and before the barn was shut up for the night, the two horses were standing knee deep in clean, sweet corn husks.
Henry faithfully kept his promise to Jessie, through the week agreed upon, which ended the next Wednesday afternoon. He expected to have an opportunity to see Jessie, at least for a few moments, that afternoon, and to tell her of his success; but after dinner, Mr. Allen and his wife went away, to be gone until night, leaving the house and their little boy in charge of Henry. So his plans were again frustrated. He did not manifest any ill-humor, however, although for a moment he was inclined to. Willie, Mr. Allen’s only child, was about six years old. He had the hooping-cough, at this time; and as the day was very windy and blustering, his mother wished him to stay in the house during her absence. Instead of fretting at his disappointment, and brooding over his irksome confinement, Henry sat down with Willie, and began to amuse him with stories about the wind. He told him of a whirlwind or tornado he had once heard about, which unroofed several buildings, completely demolished others, and then cut a clean path for itself through a forest, for nearly a mile, prostrating every tree in its course, and tearing up the ground as though an immense plough had run through it.
“Now,” continued Henry, “I’ll tell you something that happened a year or two ago, not a great way from here. There was a stage-coach crossing the mountains, one blustering afternoon, with a number of passengers. They got along pretty well, until they came to a place where the wind blew tremendously. They call it the bellows-pipe of the mountains, the wind rushes through the place so strong.”
“Does it blow there all the time?” inquired Willie.
“No, I suppose not,” replied Henry; “but it blew like everything, that day. The trunks and bundles on the top of the stage blew off, first. When the driver stopped to go after them, the passengers were so frightened that they got out; and then the body of the coach was so light, that the wind lifted it right off from the wheels.”
“What became of the horses?” inquired Willie.
“Oh, they were too heavy to blow away,” replied Henry; “but they must have been pretty well frightened. I suppose some of the men held them. But there was a lady among the passengers that actually blew away into the fields. Some men had to go after her, and help her back, for she couldn’t stand before the wind. The men lost their hats, and you can’t imagine what a time they had of it. They were afraid to travel any further, while the wind blowed so hard. So they went to a tavern that was near, and stayed all night; and the next day they finished their journey.”
“Is that all?” inquired Willie; “I thought you were going to say the house blew down.”
“No, not quite so bad as that,” added Henry. “The man that built the house, knew the winds blew very hard in that place, and I suppose he made his house just as strong as he could, so that it might stand the hardest blows. But I shouldn’t wonder if the house rocked a little that night, after all.”