eclared. "Nort, take Bud with you and see if everything is all O.
K. We've got about three minutes before the show starts. I think
we'll be able to tell if the funnel is goin' to hit us, and if it does,
we've got to let things ride and head for the cellar."

He stopped suddenly. The five leaned forward, tense, still.

A low moaning filled the air. First like the drone of a huge
bumble-bee, it gradually increased in intensity. The ranchers strained
their eyes toward the east, where the copper tint had merged to a
sickly green. A light breeze sprang up, hot, suffocating.

"Here she comes, boys! Heads up! Get ready to make a dive for the
cellar!"

All looked around to make sure that the door of the cyclone cellar--a
dugout ten feet from the house--was within easy reach. They moved a
bit closer.

Then it happened. From out of the greenish clouds tore a huge black
funnel, tip down, capped with a wreath of lightning. With a roar it
beat its way across the prairie. As it rushed along it took with it
all movable things. Lined with brushes, trees and dust, it seemed to
head straight for the ranch.

The five waited no longer. With a leap they reached the cyclone
cellar. The Kid was the last in, and just before he disappeared below
ground he looked again at the roaring funnel of wind. It was almost
upon them. In another moment, unless a near-miracle occurred, there
would be nothing left of the Shooting Star but a few timbers. The
ranch lay directly in the path.

Cyclones are freaks of nature. Even as the Kid watched, hoping that
the terrible funnel might be diverted, nature gave a demonstration of
one of its most startling feats. The funnel lifted.

Within three hundred yards of the ranch the tip raised above the
ground. As though a giant hand had pulled it up into the heavens, the
whirling, twisting cyclone merged into the blackness overhead. A
tremendous pressure beat against the Kid's body. The air about was
tingling with electricity. And there, directly above the Kid's head,
sailed the terrible funnel, Its tip held harmlessly aloft from contact
with the ground, thundering and screaming in disappointed rage. For
several seconds the "twister" remained suspended. Then two hundred
yards past the ranch it dipped to earth again, and went smashing along
on its mission of destruction and death.

The ranch was saved.

The Kid silently led the way out of the cellar. As the five stood once
more ab