ody is firing at them."

The rest for a couple of days had done Rush much good, and he made no
work of carrying the two boys along the trail that led to the second
foothills.

Long before noon they reached the hills, and here stopped for lunch.

"And now for the wonderful mine!" cried Chet. Then, happening to glance
across the plains below, he added: "Gracious, Paul! What is that?"

The attention of both young ranchmen was at once drawn to a round, black
cloud on the horizon to the east. It was hardly a yard in diameter,
apparently, when first seen, but it increased in size with great
rapidity.

It was moving directly toward them, and in less than two minutes from
the time Chet uttered his cry it had covered fully a third of the
distance.

"From what I have heard I should say that was a cyclone cloud,"
exclaimed Paul. "And still----"

"Who ever heard of a cyclone up here among the foothills," returned
Chet. "I don't believe they ever strike this territory."

"I certainly never heard of their doing so," returned Paul. "But still,
you must remember, that cyclones are erratic things at the best."

"It looks as if it were coming directly this way."

"So it does, and I reckon the best thing we can do is to make tracks for
some place of safety."

"That is true. Come on!"

Both boys sprang into the saddle and started up the trail. Hardly had a
hundred feet of the way been covered than a strange rush and roar of
wind filled the air.

"It's coming," shouted Paul. "Quick, Chet, down into that hollow before
it strikes us!"

He plunged into the basin he had designated, which was six or eight feet
below the level of the trail and not over ten yards in diameter. Chet
followed, ducking low as he did so, for already was the air filled with
flying branches.

"None too soon!" ejaculated Paul. "Down, Rush!"

Between them they managed to get the horse to lie down close to a wall
of dirt and rocks. They lay near, waiting almost breathlessly for that
awful time of peril to pass.

No one who has not experienced the dreadful effects of a cyclone can
imagine it, be the description of it ever so fine. That strange rush and
roar, that density of the air, accompanied by a feeling as if the very
breath was about to be drawn from one's lungs, the flying debris, all
unite to chill the stoutest heart and make one wonder if the next moment
will not be the last.

The cyclone was short and sharp. From the time it first struck the