“Hark! Rumble, rumble, boom, bo-o-m—bo-o-m! Patsy pricked up his ears; for even a city boy knows thunder, though it is half drowned by the roar of the wagons and pavements. Without more words he dived at Shock, and bore her away struggling, across the pasture. It had grown so dark that he could not well see where to put his feet, so he fell once or twice, bruising his wrists badly. But he managed to tumble in a way to save Shock, so it didn’t matter.
“There was a moaning and rustling sound in the far-off forests that notched the horizon on every side. Then the wind and the rain joined hands, and rushed forward wildly with a mighty roar that appalled the boy, staggering under his heavy load.
“He halted, and crouched in a little hollow. The voice of the storm now quite swept away the feeble crying of the exhausted child in his arms. As he cast a wild look about him, like a hunted rabbit, a brilliant flash of lightning showed for an instant what promised a refuge which, slight though it might be, seemed blessed compared with this bare field where the storm was searching for him with its terrible, gleaming eyes and hollow voice. If he could only reach that spot, Patsy thought, he would feel easy. It was a single huge elm-tree, like those on the Common, only standing quite alone in the pasture. It would be such a nice place in a thunder-storm—poor Patsy!
“A dim recollection of the prayers the mission people had taught him, came into his mind. But he couldn’t think of anything but, ‘Now I lay me,’ so he concluded to try for the tree first, and say his prayers after he got there.
“He lifted Shock once more in his aching arms, and started.
“But God heard his little heart-prayer above all the booming of the thunder; and this was how He answered it.
“The boy was getting on bravely, when Shock, whose fright was renewed by the motion, gave a sudden struggle. His foot slipped,—down, down he went, into a gully that had lain, unseen, across his path. The bushes broke his fall, but he lay a moment quite breathless and discouraged. But it would not do to remain so; for there was Shock, by no means injured, and crying lustily. Patsy picked himself up, and felt about him until his hand struck the side of a large rock. There was a dry place under one side, which projected slightly. He reached for Shock, and deposited her in this sheltered spot, on some leaves the wind had blown in there last autumn. He wished he could get in, too; but there was barely room for one.
“‘Told, told,’ moaned Shock, shivering, and drawing up her little limbs.
“Without an instant’s hesitation Patsy threw off his wet jacket, and tucked it round her. In three minutes he knew by her stillness and regular breathing that she was asleep.
“Then he began to be cold—very cold himself. Every whizzing rain-drop seemed like ice, striking on his bare feet and bruised hands. If he could only have that jacket, or put his feet in with Shock under it just for a minute!