The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1891-10-29

got a word to say? Come, it's time FOR
YOU to own up beat! It's no time to hold
out any longer believe that every man
that stood on that street corner that MORN
ing after the storm is right here now.-
Do you remember what | swore, Story
that would build me barn that God
Almighty could not blow down?
II remember!" came the answer; but
the speaker never took his eyes off those
silent clouds.
s'And | swear it again, right here,
face to face with saose clouds you are
studying, Brother .5tory. Come, face
round here, my eiiend; hate to talk to
the back of mans head
Story never moved.
'sDo you give it up?" went on the
knocking voice. sOf course, you remem-
Der what you said at the street corner
that morning.
As one having ears hears not, Story
half-faced round. ''Hush.' he said
sternly. Silence fell over the little
group; and through the stiffness a
strange, low sound reached them. In
stantly every man turned his eyes to the
west. "Look!" said Story, in q hushed
voice.
There was no need of the admonition.
Every eye was fastened on little dark
cloud that had swung itself loose from
the rest. The strange, low sound deep
ened. The Colonel's horse pricked up
his ears, worked his delicate nostrils
affrightedly, then shuddered all over.
The Colonel's hand frightened instructive
ly ON the rein, but he had no reassuring
word for the quivering animal that he
had petted from tiny colt. Somehow
his throat had become hard and dry. He
heard nothing but that weird'sound, saw
nothing but that little swirling, black
cloud.
1t was forty years ago that the events
of our story happened, long before the
word "cyclone" with all its dread signifi-
canoe was a household word, and they
happened, also, in State that to this
day knows but little about those terrible
windstorms. But the terror OF this
strange, grewsome thing, whose roaring
now filled the air, was sufficient OF itself
to smite all color from the bronzed faces
of that group of lookers-on and chill
them 10 the marrow with fear.
Lightly las thistle-down, turning and
twisting, seemingly a plaything of the
air, it sped along over the fields on the
south bank of the river. At first it was
a round mass something like q huge can
non ball, then shaped by viewless hands
it took on funnel-shape; finally it
started straight as line for the river
bank A group Of tall elms stood in its
way. The soft cloud touched them and
then swept on. A few ragged and NUT
Hated trunks pointed to the sky, branch,
twig and emerald leaf twisted away by
ruthless force. 1t swooped down on to
the river, which was full of logs. A
river man was standing on one of the
great log-booms at work. The voiceless,
motionless lockers on saw him face
round, and then the next instant he had
dropped into the water and was cliAging
desperately to the boomstick, then the
cloud hid him from view. On sped the
clopd. For one instant they turned
their eyes from the cloud to, the place
where they saw the lumberman. He was
safe, though his face, which was just
emerging from the water, was as white as
patch of foam. Then they turned to
lllo CiOuu dSdIu
1t sped up the river bank, aiming as
straight as an arrow sped from a taut-
strung bow for the Brainard barn. The
soft cloudy mass reached it, and never
halted an instant as though hindered, but
lightly and steadily kept on its way. But
for all that, the thing happened that every
man had had a distinct presentiment
would happen, of that great, solid-buil
barn, not one timber was left upon an
other. Full to the rafters with an album
dant harvest, with six great rivcr-bat-
teaux piled around it, in the twinkling of
an eye, barn and batteaux were snatched
away, and not vestige of either left.
The noise Of the cyclone died away.
Colonel Brainard and Amasa Story
swung around and faced each other.
There was too much Of terrible fear, of
an amazement beyond words in the eyes
OF one to express defeat, too much of
solemn awe in the eyes of the other toex-
press triumph.
Behold He taketh away, who can
hinder Him." said the skeptic slowly;
and never afterward was he heard to
speak lightly Of Him who ''holds the
wind in His fist. Portland Tran
script.