The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-01-18

self-plty was welcome to Andrews, and he
followed his host to the middle of the back
yard, where he saw mound of earth. In
the end nearest them was swinging shutter,
which the landlord raised. Within was space
for perhaps six persons comfortably placed.
BY crowding ccmIactly, twice or even thrice
that number might seek refuge for limited
time. The odor Of damp earth suggested
the grave, and again Andrews shuddered.
By the time he sought his room at 10 O'Clock
that night Andrews had argued himself into
believing that this new terror OF storm and
wind was constitutional popularity for
which he was not morally culpable, and ex-
hausted by heat and mental strain he quickly
dropped asleep.
He awoke with the trump of doom bursting
his eardrums. The crash Of falling thunder
bolt brought him to his feet, and he stood
dazed amid the lurid radiance of the light
ming. In an ecstasy of fear he sprang to the
window and closed it. Then he drew the
shade and struck match. Two fiickered
and died in his trembling hand before he
could light the lamp. In a very spasm of
horror he sat lu6dled his bed. lie thought
OF no one and nothing save himself and
death!
But there remained another note yet to De
sounded in the gamut of his terror. Suddenly
the hotel commenced to shake and reel under
| the assaults If the wind. With cringing dis
may he recalled the landlords warning
against cyclones in the night. At any moment
one might burst upon him, resistless,
morseless, overwhelming. Within him rose
the instinct of flight. To the cave, to safety:
| Mechanically in the midst Of his alarms
! he dressed himself, and as he stepped into the
| dark hall he recoiled before a sudden glare
! of lightning. But he was too desperate
| i'll his fear to be checked No one else wa.
astir, and he tore open a. side door, leaped
| to the entrance Of the cave, crept through the
| narrow opening and sank down, his face
! buried in his folded arms.
He was safe at last, and a great joy of
| salvation we,led in his heart. For time
| he slept, waking with mind cleared and body
| refreshed. He listened intently, but no sound
! reached him. He crawled from his refuge,
| but the thought Of returning to the room
where he had suffered such mental tortures
was hateful to him. He crossed the yard,
| climbed the fence and started toward the
! outskirts of the town. The air was CT hue
! strange to him, sullenly luminous and he had
! gone not more than quarter of mile when
| he saw to the south, directly opposite from
! where the storm lad come, a meEuciEg bank
| OF restless CLOUDS. They were atlaZe with
! ragged fire. The boom of thunder rose
! afresh Yes; there could be no further ques-
| ton. A second tempest was approaching. AL
| ready the Sickness of terror was UPON him,
| the nausea of cowardice, and he again faced
toward his refuge, the cave! But something
| IN the sky held him Fascinated something
| shaped like a titanic top, hung from the
heavens and spun by demon hands. Then it
stopped moving, growing larger and larger.
! What had the landlord said that afternoon?
| When 1t stops "bouncin',' it's close!
He turned and fled for his life, but even az
ne ran new thought came to him. 1t was
not yet morning. None in the sleeping town
| knew of the doom racing toward their homes.
| lie had ptiful vision of shattered houses,
| women and children caught from their sum-
DorS III the Crunchinp of the pvc1oua
He forgot himself snd-fear. He had passed
the cyclone callar and was rushing through
the hall of the hotel.
'Cyclone! Cyclone! To the cave for your
lives!''
The house sprang into instant life, but be-
fore the first startled guest reached the main
floor Andrews was again in the street. He
carried the dinner gong, which he had seized
in an inspiration born of anxiety. Between
each shout of warning he drummcd mad,
quvering alarms on the eloquent brass.
He made the round of three sides of the
square when of a sudden mighty roaring
was all about him. He paused. bewidered
| and crashing thunderbolt seemed to strike
his temple, burning splendor blinded his
eyes. Then invisible power struck full
| against him, seized him and wrapped him
in its crushing embrace, bore him aloft
tossed him here and there and finally into
a blackness that swallowed him completely.
Three days later he woke to see an angel
bending over him. No; it flesh and
: blood after all. 1t was she. He blnlSed at
her uncertainty.
t You are a heroi' She spoke softly with
l shining eyes.
| Then he remembered
Were many saved?"
i "All,'' she answered proudly. "Those you
saved reused the others, and only few who
sought refuge in cellars instead of caves,
were hurt by falling tmbers. But you suf-
fered most. Oh, it was noblc!'
2 Andrews spoke with sudden Vgor.
mo: l a coward The storms flight
ened me shamefully. You cannot understand
5 how quivered and trembled like child. I
am not worthy of you. l had already hidden
in the that night. I out only when
I thought all danger was over. The rest
: was-an accident,
He stopped, exhausted, and she bent close
t to him.
Don't talk that way, dearest You are
not coward, but a conqueror of fear, and
! you will be my hero always