The StormROBERT COHNETT

Thunderstorms hold a peculiar fas-cination for me. The dark clouds arisingsuddenly out of the west; a strange still-ness in the air as if the world had stop-ped in anticipation of some portentousevent; the pale, eerie light in the atmos-phere which gradually turns into darlc-ness as the clouds draw near; the rumbleof distant thunder and intermittent flasheslightning across the horizon and the con-sequent climax in wind, rain, and bright,sharp streaks of lightning with cracklingthunder, gives to me, instead of fear, areeling of loneliness, a depressed, awful

feeling.The storm on that day was having

the usual effect. It had arisen suddenlyout of the west. There had been a yel-lowish tint to the clouds, which, mygrandmother said, was a forewarning ofhail. I had marked with wondermentthe rolling, mixing motion of the upperpart of the cloud as it approached, andthe swaying of the treetops in the rising

wind."I hope John gets here before long,"

I heard my mother say. She was some-what fearful on such occasions. So wasthe rest of the family, except my father,who seemed to be not only unafraid, buteven somewhat amused by thunderstorms,and viewed their development with inter-est and a speculative attention. Thisamused interest was due in part, I daresay, to the fact that an opportunity wasafforded him to come in from the fieldsand spend the remainder of the' dayabout the house. I heard him come injust before the rain started. He saidsomething about its looking like a bad

storm.

.

I

The rain soon came. I stood lookingout the window watching the wind-driven sheets of rain and the, few hail-stones bouncing on the grass. I wonderedif they would hurt if they should hit

anyone.From my position in the window, I had

a good view up the valley to where theWilsons and the Daltons lived. Not longafter a particularly bright flash of lightn-ing and the almost simultaneous crashof thunder when Grandmother remarked,"That must have struck somewhereclose," I saw a red glow about the loca-tion of the Wilson farm.

I called my father, "Come here! Comehere quick! Look!" I said as he came up

beside me."Yes sir," he said. "That's Cap Wil-

son's barn on fire. That lightning musthave struck there."

Soon the whole family had gatheredaround the window. Sorneone said, "Hisbarn was full of hay. That probablyaccounts for its burning even in the rain."We could almost distinguish the flamesnow through the storm. "I wonder whatold Cap would think about this if he werealive," my father remarked. No one saidanything in answer to his question. Fora moment we were silent, listening tothe sounds of the storm outside. Thenhe added, "I suppose he would think itwas another vengeful act of God, sentupon him because of his wicked ways."He turned and walked towards the bigchair in the center of the room. "Youknow," he said, "That was an unusualelernent in the character of Cap Wilson.He believed firmly in God and in almostany thing in the realm of the supernatural,

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but he obstinately refused to submit tothe demands made by such a belief."

My mother, grandmother and my sis-ter had turned from the window andassumed comfortable positions about theroom. I remained standing by the win-dow, watching the storm as well as listen-ing to the conversation of those in theroom.

"There's no doubt that he was oneof the most temperamental and impulsivemen that we ever had for a neighbor,"my mother said.

"And about the meanest, too," Grand-mother added. "There has never beenanyone who could curse like that man.I've heard him say such things that IWOUldn't have been surprised if the earthhad opened under him and swallowedhim up."

"He killed a man, too, didn't he,John?" I turned from the window whenmy mother said that.

"Yes, but he might have been justi_fied in doing it. He killed John Powerswith a shotgun one day when they wererabbit hunting together. They [quar-relled about something and Powers start-ed for Cap, swinging his gun by thebarrel. That was when he made his mis-take because Cap used his gun as it wasintended to be used. He served two yearsfor it, I think."

I turned back to the window. Thestorm, I thought, must be near its climax.The hail had stopped, but the rain wasfalling faster, now. The thunder andlightning were nearly constant, and thewind was whipping the tree-tops likeblades of grass.

"Yes," my father's voice rose abovethe storm, "Cap was a tempestuous char-acter. He died about the same way thathe had lived. He was kicked by a mule,you know, but I was thinking of the way

he actually died rather than what causedhis death. After the mule had kickedhim and he had been in bed for a fewdays, he told his wife and friends that heknew he was going to die. He possessedsome uncanny sense of foreknowledgewhich he used on a number of occasions. . . and, every time he was right. PeoPlerespected Cap Wilson's judgment abouthappenings and the course of events.

"I believe he said it this way a fewdays before he died. 'The Lord isn'tioing to let me live much longer'."

My mother said, "But, what do youmean, John, about the way he actuallydied?"I turned from the window again. There

was an exceedihgly bright flash of light-ning, and the thunder with it rattled thewindows. Father continued. "Well, they

had to tie him in bed. He died scream-

ing. His wife says, of course, she may

have been a victim of aver-wrought

nerves, but she says that shortly after he

died that night, a hand of fire moved

through the window and stood over his

body, and then disappeared. However

it may be, old Cap never gave up, even

when he saw he was done."

I looked out the window again. The

worst of the storm had passed. The fire

was no longer visible, probably' haVing

burned itself out. My father came back

to the window, put his hand on my

shoulder, and said, "Well, son, I believe

it's about over. The skies are clearing

up a little in the west. I'm worried about

Mrs. Wilson. I wonder if the liVestock

was burned with the barn."

I didn't say anything. I was think.,

ing about the little hailstones. They had

all melted, {I,mi were gone.

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