d lay like gray mantles upon the lower slopes. Midway
in the mountain wall, a wide chasm marked the entrance to a deep, gloomy
valley, out of which a roaring mountain torrent hurried, to lose itself
in the plain below. And because somewhere in the heart of this dark
valley storms were brewed, whose dark clouds, laden with lightning and
hail, poured from between the crags of the valley out over the land,
this valley was known as the Valley of Thunder. According to an old
legend, out of this valley a king should one day come to rule over the
people of the plain.

Giles and Phyllida kept house by themselves. They had two cows, one red
and white, the other black and white, a flock of hens, some hives of
bees, a white horse, a dog, and a cat. All day long Phyllida worked
happily at the household tasks, baking the sweet white bread and marking
the fresh golden butter into square pats, while Giles went out to work
in the waving grain; and Phyllida, watching from a window, would see the
sun flash on the uplifted blade of her husband's scythe.

One day Phyllida said to Giles:--

"I have made a dress for the youngest child of our cousins, Jack and
Jill, and this morning I shall saddle the white horse and ride over to
their cottage. Perhaps I may stay with them for a few days. You will
find a fresh baking of bread and a meat-pie in the larder. Good-bye,
Giles; I'll soon be home again."

So Giles answered, "Good-bye," and away rode Phyllida on the white
horse.

A few days passed, and Giles, wandering here and there through the quiet
house, felt very lonely indeed. Finally he could stand it no longer, and
said to himself, "Phyllida must be on her way home now; I shall walk
down the highway and meet her."

So he turned all the animals loose in the fields, and putting a few
slices of bread and cheese in his pockets, set forth upon the road.
Leagues ahead of him stood the mysterious mountains rising palely
through the haze of the midsummer afternoon. A pale violet light fell on
their distant precipices, and the snow in the rifts upon their sides
appeared of the purest and loveliest white. Gusts of wind hurrying from
the distant summits swept the great plain, and the fields of ripening
wheat bent before them and rustled harshly.

Suddenly, down the throat of the Thunder Valley, Giles saw a river of
lightning fall, and from far away came a low murmur of thunder. Then,
faster and faster, a storm poured down the chasm like a flood