n the mountains."

"Oh, where is Phyllida?" cried Giles.

"She is on the highway with Jack and Jill and their children, hastening
toward the Valley of Thunder," answered the elf.

Suddenly Giles stood up, and throwing his arms high over his head,
uttered a loud shout. "I can save them," he cried. "Let us send a storm
against the robbers. Hurry, let us prepare the worst tempest that ever
was seen."

And away he ran to the hail-stone caverns, and carrying bag after bag to
the brim, emptied them all into the weather-bowl; he then tossed in a
dozen skinsful of the fiercest storm-winds, and ended by casting in all
the jars of thunderbolts that were to be found in the cavern. You should
have heard the crash of the crystal vases on the rocky floor of the
weather-bowl, and the hiss with which the lightning escaped and hid in
the rolling edges of the clouds. The great bowl roared and trembled, the
clouds massed together and grew dark; lightning played over the black
crests of the thunder-heads. From the top of the gate, Giles took one
satisfied look into the prisoned tempest, and then hurried down to unbar
the door.

Through the gates, like wild herds, poured the clouds, and rising in the
air, were caught by the spreading storm-winds and whirled madly over the
sky. The thunder roared as no mortal had ever before heard it or ever
will hear it again, and the tempest sailed away to break in all its
anger over the heads of the robber army. So terrible was the noise that
the enchanted mountain trembled to its very foundations.

Hearing the roar, the Shepherd of Clouds himself was roused and ran down
to the cloudbowl; but so dark was the mountain-top that he lost his way,
and narrowly missed falling down a precipice. The mountain elves,
terrified by the confusion, ran hither and thither like ants whose nests
had been opened. Crash went the thunder! Rumble, rumble, rumble, room,
rrrr-rang bang! bang!

Once he had seen the storm break over the robber army, Giles, taking
advantage of the darkness, noise, and confusion, determined to make one
more effort to escape. Down the endless stairs he hurried, splashing
through the falling rain, down, and down, and down. Once at the bottom,
he was lucky enough to find the path out of the chasm, and hurried along
it to the mouth of the Valley of Thunder.

He was free! The terrible storm had spent itself, and the sun was
beginning to shine on the thousand rain-drops caught in the matted
gra