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Updated: May 5, 2025
Whether the Bois-Brulés, who had lashed their horses into a lather of foam and were cursing out threats in the ominous undertone that precedes a storm-burst, now encroached upon the neutral ground in spite of Grant, or were led gradually forward by the warden as the Hudson's Bay governor's hostility increased, I did not in the excitement of the moment observe.
A storm-burst of laughter, mingled with shouts of "By jiminy, but he's chain-lightning!" and "Ain't you sorry you spoke, Sandy?" shut off the rest of the sentence, and the crushed witness drooped his blushing face in pathetic shame. He got out his fragmentary clues and arranged them on a sheet of cardboard on his knee. The house held its breath and watched.
What does it all mean?" That storm-burst along the range had turned for twenty-four hours every mountain stream into a foaming torrent for a hundred miles. Not a bridge remained along the Platte. Not a ford was fordable within two days' march of either Emory or Frayne.
Out of unpromising material even the dust of the earth God knew how to create man "but little lower than the angels." Out of a nature seemingly given over to selfishness and sensuality he sometimes forges lofty souls, which can do and dare for righteousness' sake. One can scarcely give the details of such an hour as followed that fierce storm-burst.
Being above, we could come down on the rear of the buffaloes and they would be driven to the open. Grant scouted the counseled caution. The hunters loaded guns, filled their mouths with balls to reload on the gallop and awaited the captain's order. Wheeling his horse to the fore, the warden gave one quick signal. With a storm-burst of galloping hoofs, we charged down the slope.
Glad it isn't, because we want to get down from this to where our horses are." "Little Lopez has our burro and bronco quartered in a small ravine where they can't escape," remarked the old miner, as he handed Frank the lantern he had been carrying, the girl taking the other. "But would they be in danger in case of a storm-burst?" asked Bob.
"No," said Polly, "and I don't believe there'll be another as bad." "Oh, come in here. Ooh!" cried Alexia, in muffled accents, as she huddled up against the clothes. "Oh, Polly!" It was Miss Rhys: her embroidery, cast aside at the sudden storm-burst, was dragging behind her, and she was wringing her hands. "Did you ever see anything so dreadful?"
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