nsas walls on account of the winds, so Mrs. Jonathan
thought little of this, but the ceiling puzzled her. Instead of
arching in the old way, it pointed at her. It was full of shingles,
moreover, like a roof, and the point reached nearly to her head when
she sat up in the bed, staring about her.

"'What on earth is the matter?' she asked of Cyclona.

"Cyclona turned away from the window.

"'We have moved,' said she.

"Mrs. Jonathan arose then, and going to the door, opened it and found
that what Cyclona had said was true. The scenery was quite different.
It is much further south here, you know, than in the northern part of
the State. The grass was green and the trees, hardly budded at all
where she came from, here had full grown leaves.

"There was little or no debris in the path of the cyclone, nearly
everything, with the exception of the house, having been dropped
before it arrived at that point.

"A few stray cows hung from the branches of the large cottonwood
trees, Jonathan says...."

Here the Doctor was interrupted by a man who took his pipe out of his
mouth and coughed.

"But they presently dropped on all fours," he continued, "and began to
munch on the nice green grass growing all about them.

"The landscape thus losing all indications of the tornado's effect,
assumed a sylvan aspect which was tranquil in the extreme.

"Not far off stood the horse still hitched to the plough, Jonathan
said. The horse had a dazed look, but the plough seemed to be in fit
enough condition. One handle, slightly bent, had evidently struck
against something on the journey, which gave it a rakish aspect, but
that was all."

"Did the horse have its hide on?" asked the man who had coughed.

"So far's I know," the Doctor replied. "Why?"

"Because there's a story goin' the rounds," answered the cougher, "to
the effec' that a horse was blown a hundred miles in a cyclone and
when they found him he was hitched to a tree and skinned."

There was a period of thoughtful silence before the Doctor went on
with his story.

"As Mrs. Jonathan looked out the door," he said, "she saw Jonathan
walking down the road in her direction. His slice of pie, which he had
not had time to finish, was still in his hand.

"'Where are we at?' he asked her, curiously.

"'I am sure I don't know,' answered Mrs. Jonathan, beginning,
woman-like, to cry, now that the danger was over.

"Jonathan began to finish his pie, which the cyclone had interrupt