The Lost City | Page 3

are invariably heralded by a fall of hail, heavy in proportion to the--"
"Then I'd rather be excused, thank you, sir!" again interrupted the younger of the brothers, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped forth from shelter to win a fairer view of the space stretching away towards the south and the west. "I always laughed at tales of hailstones large as hen's eggs, but now I know better. If I was a hen, and had to match such a pattern as these, I'd petition the legislature to change my name to that of ostrich,--I just would, now!"
Bruno proved to be a little more amenable to the law of politeness, and to him Professor Featherwit confined his sapient remarks for the time being, giving no slight amount of valuable information anent these strange phenomena of nature in travail.
He spoke of the different varieties of land-storms, showing how a tornado varied from a hurricane or a gale, then again brought to the front the vital difference between a cyclone, as such, and the miscalled "twister," which has wrought such dire destruction throughout a large portion of our own land during more recent years.
While that little lecture would make interesting reading for those who take an interest in such matters, it need scarcely be reproduced in this connection, more particularly as, just when the professor was getting fairly warmed up to his work, an interruption came in the shape of a sharp, eager shout from the lips of Waldo Gillespie.
"Look--look yonder! What a funny looking cloud that is!"
A small clump of trees growing upon a rising bit of ground interfered with the view of his brother and uncle, for Waldo was pointing almost due southeast; yet his excitement was so pronounced that both the professor and Bruno hastened in that direction, stopping short as they caught a fair sight of the object indicated.
A mighty mass of wildly disturbed clouds, black and green and white and yellow all blending together and constantly shifting positions, out of which was suddenly formed a still more ominous shape.
A mass of lurid vapour shot downwards, taking on the general semblance of a balloon, as it swayed madly back and forth, an elongating trunk or tongue reaching still nearer the earth, with fierce gyrations, as though seeking to fasten upon some support.
Not one of that trio had ever before gazed upon just such another creation, yet one and all recognised the truth,--this was a veritable tornado, just such as they had read in awed wonder about, time and time again.
Neither one of the brothers Gillespie were cravens, in any sense of the word, but now their cheeks grew paler, and they seemed to shrink from yonder airy monster, even while watching it grow into shape and awful power.
Professor Featherwit was no less absorbed in this wondrous spectacle, but his was the interest of a scientist, and his pulse beat as ordinary, his brain remaining as clear and calm as ever.
"I hardly believe we have anything to fear from this tornado, my lads," he said, taking note of their uneasiness. "According to both rule and precedent, yonder tornado will pass to the east of our present position, and we will be as safe right here as though we were a thousand miles away."
"But,--do they always move towards the northeast, uncle Phaeton?"
"As a rule, yes; but there are exceptions, of course. And unless this should prove to be one of those rare ex--er--"
"Look!" cried Waldo, with swift gesticulation. "It's coming this way, or I never--ISN'T it coming this way?"
"Unless this should prove to be one of those rare exceptions, my dear boy, I can promise you that--Upon my soul!" with an abrupt change of both tone and manner, "I really believe it IS coming this way!"
"It is--it is coming! Get a move on, or we'll never know--hunt a hole and pull it in after you!" fairly screamed Waldo, turning in flight.
CHAPTER II.
PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT TAKING NOTES.
"To the house!" cried the professor, raising his voice to overcome yonder sullen roar, which was now beginning to come their way. "Trust all to the aeromotor, and 'twill be well with us!"
The wiry little man of science himself fell to work with an energy which told how serious he regarded the emergency, and, acting under his lead, the brothers manfully played their part.
Just as had been done many times before this day, a queer-looking machine was shoved out from the shed, gliding along the wooden ways prepared for that express purpose, while Professor Featherwit hurried aboard a few articles which past experience warned him might prove of service in the hours to come, then sharply cried to his nephews:
"Get aboard, lads! Time enough, yet none to spare in idle motions. See! The storm is drifting our way in deadly earnest!"
And so it seemed, in good sooth.
Now