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Updated: June 18, 2025
They followed by the side of the hurricane's track for several miles, and Henry was astonished at the damage that it had done. Its path was not more than two hundred yards wide, but within that narrow space little had been able to resist it. Trees were piled in tangled masses.
He went to his room and took a cold bath, which with the food and suspended excitement quite refreshed him; put on dry clothes, nailed a board against the hole in the roof, then sat down with Mrs. Mitchell in the western gallery to await the hurricane's return. "We have three windows where we had one before," remarked Mrs. Mitchell; "and the hinges of that door are rusty. God knows!
But be comforted, coz, for if this comes to Uncle Hurricane's ears, he'll make mince-meat of him in no time, It is all in his line; he'll chaw him right up!" "Percy, do you mean to say that you will not call out that man?" asked Capitola, drawing her breath hardly. "Yes, coz." "You won't fight him?" "No, coz." "You won't?" "No."
And I felt very much inclined to agree with him. To me it seemed impossible that any combination of wood and metal, the work of men's hands, however cunningly fashioned and deftly put together, could withstand such a frenzied onslaught as that which was about to burst upon us. Another instant and we were within the hurricane's clutches.
Then Herbert told his own little story of getting his commission and being ordered to Mexico. "God bless you, lad, and save you in the battle and bring you home with victory!" was Old Hurricane's comment. Then seeing that the young people were quite worn out with fatigue, and feeling not averse to his own comfortable couch, Old Hurricane broke up the circle and they all retired to rest.
As the troop of miscellaneously armed negroes running down the hill were still making eve hideous with yells of "Black Donald!" and Capitola still clinging and hanging on at the back of his neck, continued to cry, "I've caught him! help! help!" something like the truth flashed in a blinding way upon Old Hurricane's perceptions.
It must have been your carelessness, you good-for-nothing loungers; and if he is not well enough to take me to the fair to-morrow, at least, I'll have the whole set of you lamed for life!" she exclaimed, angrily, as she turned off and went up to the house not caring so much, after all, for her own personal disappointment as for Old Hurricane's triumph. Cap's ill humor did not last long.
Though the buckling plates still thundered, though the floor under their feet still pitched at crazy angles, there was a "feel" in the fire-room that ribs and beams and rivets were not so near the breaking-point. Neville came to the end of the passage. "The hurricane's blowing itself to death," he shouted. "Stick to it, boys, for an hour longer; the second watch can reach us by then."
On his left hand stood his cozy bedstead, with its warm crimson curtains festooned back, revealing the luxurious swell of the full feather bed and pillows, with their snow-white linen and lamb's-wool blankets, inviting repose. Between this bedstead and the corner of the fireplace stood Old Hurricane's ancient body servant Wool, engaged in warming a crimson cloth nightcap.
If it were anybody else, shouldn't they know the difference between their liege lady and Tom Trotter? However, as it's Herbert, here goes! Now, I suppose the best way to ask myself of uncle, for Herbert, will be just to hand him over this matter. The dear knows it isn't so over and above affectionate that I should hesitate. Uncle," said Cap, pulling Old Hurricane's coat sleeve.
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