He called the J. M. over for a look. “Well,” said the Chief, “your friend Maria is about done for.” East and west, like hostile forces, areas of high pressure had developed and were pressing in. To the south, the Pacific High showed again. Northward, Victoria had drawn close, taking to herself the northern air which had been feeding Maria. At the center, the pressure was rising rapidly.

“What about this?” asked the J. M., motioning with his head toward the windows where the storm still beat.

“Pretty local. Fresno, you see, reports only a drizzle.”

“Well, Maria was a good one, while she lasted.”

“Don’t speak of her in the past, quite yet. Wait till that front goes by. Say, have you called the hospital?”

Racing on from Sacramento, northeastward, at forty five miles an hour, the front of the advancing old polar air met the line of the foothills shortly before six o’clock. The steady rise of the slope forced the air still upward, and threw it into even wilder confusion.

Blue Boy, the boar, awoke and grunted in displeasure. His thick covert of oak was good against most rains, but not against this one. He stirred resentfully, bringing to life some vague boar-memories of a warm dry shed. Then he settled down, trying to make himself more comfortable.

Johnny Martley awoke. His house was near one end of French Bar dam, and close to the lip of the canyon. The house was of wood, solidly constructed, company-built. He could feel the tough timbers give before the wind-pressure; he heard the crash of the rain. “Cloudburst,” he said to his wife. “Rain (hear it?)—not snow. There’ll be a lot of water down the North Fork.”

(Rick, the lineman, did not awake. In the little mountain town where he had been born, he lay quietly in his coffin.)

•

It was just after six when the J. M. talked to the nurse on the ward. He reported to the Chief.

“She says the Old Master is pretty bad—that chill, or something, got his heart.”

“Hn-n?” said the Chief. “He’s ninety if he’s a day.”

•

Just after six also the radio operator at Bay Airport talked with the plane over Elko. There was some crackling of static, but the words came through clearly. Big Al Bruntton was flying smoothly through the calm high-pressure area which stretched across most of Nevada. The radio-operator gave the information which the Night Service Officer had ordered. “Conditions over the summit, still flyable, but be ready for orders to land at Reno. Worse on this side of the summit—considerable turbulence. Cumulus cloud masses rising to an undetermined height, probably some icing conditions at certain levels as previously reported. Airports available: Reno open; Sacramento doubtful; Bay open, and conditions expected to improve after passage of a cold front about seven A.M.; Red Bluff doubtful; Fresno open and expected to remain so, available for emergency landing.”