“Oh!” cried Nan, “what is that?”
“Have you seen it before?” demanded Rhoda,
shutting the glasses and putting them in the case.
“Yes.”
“I wish I had,” Rhoda said. “Hurry
up, Walter, and sling that antelope across your saddle.
Look out that the pony doesn’t get away from
you. Maybe he won’t like the smell of blood.
Quick!”
“What is the matter?” cried Bess, while
Grace began to flush and then pale, as she always
did when she was startled.
“It is a storm coming,” answered Rhoda
shortly.
“But, Rhoda,” said Bess, “the wind
is blowing the wrong way to bring that cloud toward
us.”
“You will find that the wind will change in
a minute. And it’s going to blow some,
too.”
“Oh, my dear!” exclaimed Nan, under her
breath, “is it what your father warned us about?”
“A tornado?” cried Walter, from the ground
where he was picking up the dead antelope.
“I never saw a cloud like that that did not
bring a big wind,” Rhoda told them. “We’ve
got to hurry.”
“Can we reach home?” asked Bess.
“Not ahead of that. But we’ll find
some safe place.”
“What’s that coming?” cried Nan,
standing up in her stirrups to look toward the rolling
cloud.
“The wagons,” said Rhoda. “See!
The boys have got the mules on the gallop. Their
only chance is to reach the ranch.”
“But can’t we reach the house?”
demanded Grace, trembling.
“I won’t risk it—There!
See that?”
The slate-colored cloud seemed to shut out everything
behind the flying wagons like a curtain. The
breeze about the little cavalcade had died away.
But Rhoda’s cry called attention to something
that sprang up from the site of the mule-drawn chuck
wagons, and flew high in the air.
“A balloon!” gasped Bess.
“A balloon your granny!” exclaimed Walter,
tying the legs of the antelope to his saddle pommel.
“Go ahead, girls. I’ll be right after
you.”
“It was a wagon-top,” explained Rhoda,
twitching her already nervous pony around. “They
did not get it tied down soon enough.”
“Then a big wind is coming!” Nan agreed.
“Come on!” shouted Rhoda, setting spurs
to her mount.
“Oh, Walter!” shrieked Grace, her own
pony following the others, while Walter and his mount
remained behind.
But the boy leaped into the saddle. He waved
his hand to his sister. They saw his mouth open
and knew he shouted a cheery word. But they could
not hear a sound for the roaring of the tornado.
In a second, it seemed, the tempest burst about them.
Rhoda had headed her pony for the hills. The
mounts of the other girls were close beside Rhoda’s
pony. But Walter was instantly blotted out of
sight.
Whether he followed their trail or not the four girls
could not be sure.
