“That is all right, Rhoda. I had forgotten
about the tornado,” said Bess. “What
I want to know is: Have you got your rifle safe?”
“Of course. And it is loaded.”
“Then I feel better,” Bess declared.
“For if that dreadful thing—whatever
it is—comes near us, you can shoot it.”
“I can see plainly,” laughed Nan, “that
you do not believe the noise is supernatural, Bess.”
“Humph! maybe you could shoot a ghost.
Who knows?”
AFTER THE TEMPEST
The party had not got away from the scene of the round-up
so very early in the morning; and the detour to reach
the herd of antelopes had taken considerable time.
It was therefore well past noon when the tornado had
sent the four schoolgirls scurrying for the old bears’
den.
But by that time it was almost pitch dark outside
as well as inside the cavern. The tornado had
quenched the sunlight and made it seem more like midnight
than mid-afternoon.
The situation of the girls in the cavity in the west
side of the gulch might not have been so awe-inspiring
had it not been for the mysterious noise that had
echoed and reechoed through the hollow rock.
Rhoda hobbled the horses in the dark at one side of
the cave, and did it just as skillfully as though
she could see. It seemed to the other girls as
though fooling around the ponies’ heels was a
dangerous piece of work; but the ranch girl laughed
at them when they mentioned it.
“These ponies don’t kick, except each
other when they are playing. I wouldn’t
hobble them at all, only I don’t know where they
might stray in the dark. There may be holes in
here—we don’t know. I don’t
want any of you to separate from the others while we
are in here.”
“Don’t you be afraid of that, Rhoda,”
said Grace Mason earnestly. “I am clinging
to Nan Sherwood’s hand, and I wouldn’t
let go for a farm!”
“As it happens, Gracie,” said Bess Harley’s
voice, “you chance to be hanging to my hand.
But it is all right. I am just as good a hanger
as you are. I don’t love the dark, either.”
Nan herself felt that she would not be fearful in
this place if it had not been for the queer sound
from the depths of the cave. Whatever it was,
when it was repeated, and the horses stamped and whinnied
as though in answer, Nan felt a fear of the unknown
that she could scarcely control.
“What do you think it is, Rhoda?” she
whispered in the ranch girl’s ear. “It
is so mournful and uncanny!”
“It’s got me guessing,” admitted
the ranch girl. “I never heard that there
was anything up here in the hills to be afraid of.
And I don’t believe it is anything that threatens
us now. But I admit it gives me the creeps every
time I hear it.”
On the other hand the roaring of the tornado was heard
for more than an hour after they entered the cave.
They had come so far from the mouth of the old bears’
den that the sound of the elements was muffled.
