doubt
that the observation was intended for her ears, maliciously or
otherwise.

She gave him an awed glance, but no verbal response. It was readily to
be seen that she was terrified by the violence of the mountain tornado.
As if to shame him for the frivolous remark, she suddenly changed her
position, putting herself behind him.

"I like that," he remonstrated, emboldened by the elements. "You leave
me in front to be struck by the first bolt of lightning that comes
along. And I a stranger, too."

"Isn't it awful?" she murmured, her fingers in her ears, her eyes
tightly closed. "Do you think we'll be struck?"

"Certainly not," he assured her. "This is a charmed spot. It's a frolic
of her particular devils. She waves her hand: all the goblins and
thunder-workers in this neck of the woods hustle up to see what's the
matter. Then there's an awful rumpus. In a minute or two she'll wave her
hand and--presto! It will stop raining. But," with a distressed look out
into the thick of it, "it would be a beastly joke if lightning should
happen to strike that nag of mine. I'd not only have to walk to town,
but I'd have to pay three prices for the brute."

"I think she's perfectly--ooh!--perfectly wonderful. Goodness, that was
a crash! Where do you think it struck?"

"If you'll stand over here a little closer I'll point out the tree. See?
Right down the ravine there? See the big limb swaying? That's the place.
The old lady is carrying her joke too far. That's pretty close home.
Stand right there, please. I won't let it rain in on you."

"You are very good, Mr. King. I--I've always thought I loved a storm.
Ooh! But this is too terrible! Aren't you really afraid you'll be
struck? Thanks, ever so much." He had squared himself between her and
the door, turning his back upon the storm: but not through cowardice, as
one might suppose.

"Don't mention it. I won't mind it so much, don't you know, if I get
struck in the back. How long ago did you say it was that you went to
school with my sister?"

All this time the Witch was haranguing her huddled audience, cursing the
soldiers, laughing gleefully in the faces of her stately, scornful
guests, greatly to the irritation of Baron Dangloss, toward whom she
showed an especial attention.

Tullis was holding the Prince in his arms. Colonel Quinnox stood before
them, keeping the babbling, leering beldame from thrusting her face
close to that of the terrified boy. Young Vos Engo glowere