m her feet, struggled with her weight
thrown against the door that she could scarcely close. Then the darkness
blotted midday into night, and through the unnatural thickness clashed a
frenzy of detonations.

Out of the window she and her husband seemed looking through dark and
confused waters which leaped constantly into the brief and blinding
glare of such blue-white instants of lightning as hurt the eyes. The
walnut tree appeared and disappeared--waving arms like a high-priest in
transports of frenzy, and adding its wind-song to the mighty chorus.

The sturdily built old house trembled under that assaulting, and when
the first cyclonic sweep of wind had rushed by the pelting of hail and
rain was a roar as of small-arms after artillery.

"Gran'pap," gasped Dorothy. "I don't see how a livin' soul kin
endure--out thar!"

Then came a concussion as though the earth had broken like a bursted
emery wheel, and a hall of white fire seemed to pass through the walls
of the place. Dorothy pitched forward, stunned, to the floor and at the
pit of his stomach Cal Maggard felt a sudden sickness of shock that
passed as instantly as it had come. He found himself electrically
tingling through every nerve as the woman rose slowly and dazedly,
staring about her.

"Did hit strike ... ther house?" she asked, faintly, and then with the
same abruptness as that with which darkness had come, the sky began to
turn yellowish again and they could see off across the road through the
amber thickness of returning daylight.

"No," her husband said, hesitantly, "hit warn't ther house--but hit was
right nigh!"

The girl followed his startled gaze, and there about the base of the
walnut tree lay shaggy strips of rent bark.

Running down the trunk in the glaring spiral of a fresh scar two
hand-breadths wide went the swath along which the bolt had plunged
groundward.

For a few moments, though with a single thought between them, neither
spoke. In the mind of Dorothy words from a faded page seemed to rewrite
themselves: "Whilst that tree stands ... and weathers the thunder and
wind ... our family also will wax strong and robust ... but when it
falls----!"

Cal rose slowly to his feet, and the girl asked dully, "Where be ye
goin'?"

"I'm goin'," he said as their eyes met in a flash of understanding, "ter
seek fer yore gran'pap."

"I fears me hit's too late...." Her gaze went outward and as she looked
the man needed no explanation.

"Ef he'