"No, it ain't!" trumpeted Bailey, sturdily; "swing a tub up here to
catch the water!"
The woman forgot her fears and aided the two men as they toiled to cover
the more perishable goods with bolts of cotton cloth, while the
appalling wind tore at the eaves and lashed the roof with broadsides of
rain and hail, which fell in constantly increasing force, raising the
roar of the storm in key, till it crackled viciously. The tempest had
the voice of a ravenous beast, cheated and angry. Outside the water lay
in sheets. The whole land was a river, and the shanty was like a boat
beached on a bar in the swash of it.
Nothing more could be done, and so they waited, Bailey watching at the
window, Blanche and Rivers standing in the centre of the room. Bailey
came back once to say: "This beats anything I ever saw. There will be
ruin to many a shanty out of this," he added, as the roar began to
diminish. "Nothing saved us but our ballast of pork and oil."
"As soon as it stops, Bob, I wish you'd hitch up for me. I want to take
Mrs. Burke home."
"All right, Jim; it's letting up now. I wonder if the storm was as bad
over where the Clayton girls are?" His voice betrayed anxiety greater
than he knew. Rivers looked at him indulgently and smiled at Blanche.
"You'd better go and see," he said.
As soon as it became possible to carry a light, Bailey went to the barn
and brought the team to the door. Rivers helped Blanche to a seat in
the wagon and drove off across the plain, leaving Bailey alone in the
water-soaked store-room. After a half-hour's work he, too, set out on a
tour of exploration. The moon was shining on the plain as serenely as if
only a dew had fallen. Water stood in shallow basins here and there, but
the land was unmarked of the passion of lightning and of wind. Bailey
walked across the level waste, straining his eyes ahead to see if the
homes of his neighbors were still standing. He saw lights gleaming here
and there like warning lamps of distant schooners, and when the
infrequent, silent lightning flamed over the level waste, he caught
glimpses of familiar shanties standing on the low swells.
He hurried forward, his feet splashing in water, too intent to turn
aside. Wherever a lamp burned steadily he knew a roof still remained,
and his heart grew lighter. He came at last to the object of his search.
It was only a small hut, but it was to him most sacred. He knocked
timidly at the door.
"Who's there?" was the quick and startled reply.
"It's Bailey. I'm here to see how you came through the storm."
"Oh, Mr. Bailey!" replied Estelle. She opened the door. "Come in. We're
all right, but wet. Don't step in the pans."
As he entered, with eyes a little dazzled by the candle, Carrie, wrapped
in a shawl, rose from the bed. "Oh, I'm glad to see a man! Wasn't it
terrible?" Pans were set about the room to catch the dripping water. The
little shanty, usually so orderly and cheerful, looked dishevelled and
desolate.
Estelle laughed and said, "I tried to save the chickens, and I nearly
blew away myself."
Her cheeks were flushed, and her wet hair streamed down her back. She
was barefooted, a fact which she tried to conceal by leaning forward a
little.
"It was very good of you to come over," she went on, more soberly, in
the pause which followed. "We were scared; no use denying that, but we
were too busy to dwell upon it. The wind took the tarred paper off the
roof and let the rain through everywhere. It was the most exciting
experience of our lives."
She was more breathless and girlish than she had ever been in his
presence, and he grew correspondingly secure. A subtle charm came from
her streaming hair and her uncorseted and graceful figure. He offered
assistance, but she sturdily replied:
"Oh no, thank you. There's nothing to do till morning, anyway. We kept
the bed dry, and so we can sleep." She smiled on him with something
happy hidden in the tones of her voice. She was embarrassed, but not
afraid. She trusted him perfectly, and he was exalted by that trust.
"Well, I'll be over in the morning and see how badly damaged you are. I
couldn't go to bed till I knew you were all right."
"Thank you. You're very kind."
He went out with a feeling that Carrie was trying hard not to laugh at
him. He was sure he heard a smothered giggle as he went down the slope.
He glowed with admiration for Estelle, so frank, so womanly. They
seemed to have drawn closer to each other in that fifteen minutes' talk
than in all the preceding months. In the joy of this deepening
friendship he splashed contentedly back to the store, unheeding the
pools beneath his feet.
V