Robbie Bell and Sam squatted down low and embraced each other from the start.

“Runs in our family to get struck by lightnin’,” said Robbie Bell. “Lightnin’ drawed a pitchfork right on our grandpappy’s cheek, stayed till he died. Pappy got struck by some bolts of lightnin’ and was dead three days, dead as that-there axe.”

There was a succession of glares and crashes.

“This’n’s goin’ to be either me or you,” said Sam. “Here come a little bug. If he go to the left, be me, and to the right, be you.”

But at the next flare a big tree on the hill seemed to turn into fire before their eyes, every branch, twig, and leaf, and a purple cloud hung over it.

“Did you hear that crack?” asked Robbie Bell. “That were its bones.”

“Why do you little niggers talk so much!” said Doc. “Nobody’s profiting by this information.”

“We always talks this much,” said Sam, “but now everybody so quiet, they hears us.”

The great tree, split and on fire, fell roaring to earth. Just at its moment of falling, a tree like it on the opposite bank split wide open and fell in two parts.

“Hope they ain’t goin’ to be no balls of fire come rollin’ over the water and fry all the fishes with they scales on,” said Robbie Bell.

The water in the river had turned purple and was filled with sudden currents and whirlpools. The little willow trees bent almost to its surface, bowing one after another down the bank and almost breaking under the storm. A great curtain of wet leaves was borne along before a blast of wind, and every human being was covered.

“Now us got scales,” wailed Sam. “Us is the fishes.”

“Hush up, little-old colored children,” said Virgil. “This isn’t the way to act when somebody takes you out to drag a river.”

“Poor lady’s-ghost, I bet it is scareder than us,” said Sam.

“All I hoping is, us don’t find her!” screamed Robbie Bell.

William Wallace bent down and knocked their heads together. After that they clung silently in each other’s arms, the two black heads resting, with wind-filled cheeks and tight-closed eyes, one upon the other until the storm was over.

“Right over yonder is Dover,” said Virgil. “We’ve come all the way. William Wallace, you have walked on a sharp rock and cut your foot open.”

III