University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE TEMPEST.

For a few moments Henry stood as one petrified.
Accustomed as he was to act instantaneously in
critical cases, he now halted in a state of uncertainty,
if not bewilderment. His first impulse was
to spring after the horses, in the hope that they might
not run far; but in the same moment he bethought
him that he would thus be leaving Isaline all alone,
and the idea was abandoned at once. Hastening
back to her side, he threw his arm around her slender,
trembling form, and, in a low, tender tone, for
the first time since their acquaintance dropping all
formality, he said:

“Isaline, do not be alarmed! the danger is not so
great as it seems.”

She leaned heavily against him, as if mutely asking
protection; and there, alone in the wilderness,
almost defenceless, he experienced a thrill of happiness
he had never felt before.

“Do not be alarmed, Isaline!” he repeated, in a
tender, soothing tone; “the storm is all that we have
to dread, and that is in the hands of God, and will
not destroy us!”

With the last words came a blinding flash of

lightning, quickly followed by a crash of thunder
and a few heavy, pattering drops of rain.

“Oh, Henry!” responded the trembling girl, in a
tone of helpless terror, and leaning more heavily
against him, as though too weak and faint to support
her own fragile form.

The storm had been unusually rapid in its advance.
From the moment when our friends had been warned
by the first low, distant boom of thunder to the
present time, only a few minutes had elapsed; and
since then the bright sun had been darkened, the
blue heavens above them had been covered by a
black pall, the forked lightnings had played about
them, crashing thunders had almost stunned them,
big drops of rain had begun to descend, and now
was heard that sullen, ominous, awful roar, which
proclaims the near approach of a terrific tempest or
tornado.

“If we could only find some place of shelter!”
said Henry, with a quick, anxious glance around
him.

“There is no time!” gasped Isaline; “the tempest
is upon us. Heaven of mercy! look yonder!”

There was no time indeed, and the last exclamation
was drawn from her by the awful appearance
of the atmosphere above her. It was dark with
millions of leaves, which were whirling over and
around and rushing forward with a terrific, roaring
velocity. These were controlled by a current of
wind near the black clouds, which were also rolling,

twisting and writhing in a most frightful manner.
As yet the air near the earth was still and calm; but
it was of that stillness and that calmness which made
it dreadful to expectation. In the worst we know
the worst, and battle with it with every faculty of
mind and body, buoying our spirits up with action,
fearing nothing more and hoping something better;
but in the waiting for uncertain evil, the imagination
is filled with horrors that unnerve and paralyze
us, because we cannot grapple with them. The expectation
in this case was soon a terrible reality.
The current of air that swept and roared through
the heavens, was quickly followed by one that tore
along the earth, destroying nearly everything in its
path. It seized the trees of the forest, great and
small, bent them like reeds, snapped them asunder,
tore them up by their roots, whirled them round
like straws, and strewed and piled them together in
a long, wild, tangled mass of ruin. It struck the
top of the mound and hurled everything downward
except the earth itself, and even that trembled.
Fortunately our friends were at its eastern base,
where the wind could not reach them in its wildest
fury, or they might never have outlived it; and
even as it was it almost lifted them from their feet
and drove them against the embankment, where they
turned their faces to the earth, breathed with difficulty,
silently prayed, and every moment looked for
death. Meantime the shrieking, howling, and roaring
of the tempest were awful beyond description;
the air was black with flying leaves, branches, and
timbers; there was a ghastly, lurid glow throughout
the gloom; dazzling chains of forked lightning
struck downward and outward in every direction;
the crashing of the thunder seemed like the dashing
together of the worlds of the universe, and the
driving rain fell in such torrents as if the windows
of heaven had indeed been opened. Its wildest fury
lasted for half an hour, and then its work of destruction
was done in that locality, and it went howling,
roaring and rumbling away to the eastward.

When at last Henry and Isaline found themselves
in a condition to look about them, they were indeed
in a pitiable plight. There was not a dry thread
upon them. The rain too was still descending in
torrents—for though the tornado was past, black,
humid clouds remained, that literally poured their
watery contents upon the earth, as if to complete
the work of destruction with a deluge. Nor was
this all. The little stream, mentioned as flowing
along the base of the eastern embankment, had
already swollen to the size of a small river, had
overleaped its own natural banks, and was splashing
its waters into the inclosure, through the opening of
the nearest angle, to a depth of several inches, with
the flood still rising, and other smaller streams rushing,
leaping, and roaring down the centre mound to
swell it still higher.

“Thank God,” said Henry, “our lives have been
preserved through this awful tempest, the like of

which I never saw before! But see, Isaline—dear
Isaline, may I not call you? for, after sharing this
dreadful peril with you, you have become dearer to
me than any other being in the wide wide world,—
see! the flood is rising around us, and we must
change our place for safety. Have you strength
enough left to attempt the ascent of the mound
again?”

“Yes, Henry,” replied Isaline, looking up with a
face into which the color was beginning to return,
“I am stronger than I was—much stronger. It
was the lightning which affected me so—it always
did—but wherefore I cannot say. Other dangers
may alarm me as much, but nothing else so utterly
weakens and prostrates me. Oh, Heaven, what a
tempest! what a tempest! It seems almost a miracle
that we have both lived through it! But the
danger is not yet past! How shall we ever get back
to our companions?”

“Do not fear, dear Isaline! there will be a way, I
trust!” said Henry, soothingly. “Come, let me assist
you up the hill again, where I fancy we shall
be safer for the present, and where at least we can
get a clearer view of the scene of desolation.”

She gave him her hand, and they walked through
the water that already covered the space between
the embankment and mound; but when they began
the ascent of the steep and slippery acclivity, she
required the support of his arm, and it was only

after much labor, difficulty and delay that they
were able to reach the summit at all.

Truly a wild scene of destruction here met their
view. The sweep of the tornado, from north to
south, had been something like half a mile wide,
reaching out about equally on either side of the
mound, so that the spot where our friends now stood
had been, so to speak, the very centre of its fury.
It had moved from west to east in an almost direct
line, and had either uprooted or blown down the
trees of the forest, strewing and leaving them on its
terrible path in every conceivable position, so that
in general appearance its destructive work was not
unlike a mower's careless swath through a field of
grain. Scarcely a tree had been left standing; and
that anything having life, and most of all human
life, should have been preserved in the midst of its
fury, was certainly little short of a miracle. Had
Henry succeeded in catching the horses and mounting
himself and companion, it is more than probable
their lives would have been destroyed, as they
would have taken just the course to have been
caught by the tornado in the forest, and this they
now comprehended with such feelings of gratitude
for their preservation as belonged to their noble
natures.

“It is often thus,” said Henry, solemnly, “that
Providence saves us in spite of ourselves; and in
the mysterious workings of Heaven we sometimes
find good springing out of what we had thought to

be evil. We grieved at what we supposed to be a
calamity when our horses ran away from us, and
now we find that very event to have been our salvation.”

“It is truly so,” replied Isaline, “and I am very`
very thankful to God for our wonderful preservation!
But what of our companions, Henry? Do you
think they have been fortunate enough to have escaped
also?”

“I hope so, Isaline, and I may say I believe so,
for they were moving in a southerly direction, and
must, I think, have got beyond the fierce track of
the tempest.”

“And will there be any way for us to rejoin
them?” inquired Isaline, with an expression of painful
anxiety.

“Undoubtedly!” answered the young artist, more
hopeful in the word than the thought; for the rain
was still coming down in torrents, every little brook
was already swelled to a river, and in every direction,
as far as the eye could reach, the level ground
appeared to be nearly buried under water, which
was pouring down from every hill in rushing
streams.

“O-oh!” shuddered Isaline; “I am growing cold.”

“Ah, that is what we have to fear!” said Henry,
in some alarm. “I am afraid you are taking cold,
for you are soaked through and through, and the
temperature has fallen several degrees. Oh that we
had some place of shelter where I could strike a

fire! Here, perhaps this may be of some little service
to you!” and he took off his hunting-frock and
wrapped it around her shoulders.

“No, no,” said Isaline, endeavoring to throw it
off, “I will not be so selfish as to rob you!”

“Oh, I do not mind it in the least,” he said; “I
am used to all kinds of exposure, but you are not.
Nay, dear Isaline, I insist that you wear it!” he
added, using a little playful force to keep it round
her shoulders. “Ah, do wear it, now, to please me!
will you not?”

“But you will suffer from the exposure!”

“No, I promise you I will be very good and do
nothing of the kind!” returned Henry, demurely.

The oddity of the reply and the look that accompanied
it, drew a smile from Isaline, and she made
no further resistance or objection.

“What a dreary prospect!” she said, surveying
the dismal scene before her; “how shall we ever get
away from here?”

“It will not rain always,” returned Henry; “even
in Noah's time it stopped after forty days and nights;
and I feel almost certain this deluge will not last
half as long as that one did!”

“It is a great blessing to be light hearted!” smiled
Isaline. “Ah, our poor horses! what has become
of them? I fear we shall never see them again!”

“Unless destroyed by the tornado, I think they
will be found, but not soon enough perhaps to serve
our present need,” returned Henry. “I am sorry

to say, Isaline, I see no way of rejoining our companions
except on foot, and I am much afraid you
will not be equal to the task!”

“Oh, yes, it will not hurt me to walk, I am sure;
and even if our horses were here, we could not ride
through this mass of fallen timbers. Come, let us
set off at once! I am anxious to show you what I
can do—what a little heroine I can be!”

“We shall have to wade through the water in
many places.”

“Which will hardly wet us now,” smiled Isaline.
“I am ready for the trial; and since we have escaped
such terrible perils, I shall look upon the obstacles
in our way as comparative trifles.”

Henry took one more survey of the dreary scene,
and suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the northward:

“Ha! look yonder, Isaline! by that large rock
near the base of that rocky ridge!”

“Oh, yes, I see! I see!” cried Isaline, clapping
her hands with delight; “our horses! our horses!
Heaven be praised, they have not been killed!”

“They must have run fast, and just barely escaped
the track of the tornado!” said Henry.

“Can we not get to them?”

“I think so, Isaline—though there appears to be
a swampy level on the direct line, covered with
water; but, as far as I can judge, looking at it from
here, we can go around it to the westward, and strike
the ridge about a quarter of a mile beyond them.”

“But then, after reaching them, how shall we get
them across this wide mass of fallen timbers?”

“Ah, that is where the trouble will be!”

“At all events, Henry, let us make the trial!”

“Will you go, or remain here, Isaline?”

“Oh, I must go with you, certainly—for I confess
I am not courageous enough to remain here by myself!
Besides, I am very cold, and need all the
exercise I can get.”

“I hardly know,” returned Henry, hesitating,
“that it will be prudent for us to go after the horses!
The same labor it would cost us to get to them,
would take us beyond the fallen timbers in the
other direction, and perhaps enable us to rejoin our
companions in case they have halted on account of
the storm.”

“But suppose they have not?”

“Then we should have a long walk to overtake
them—for unless they have already halted, they
probably will not short of the ford—a distance of
five or six miles at least.”

“Let us go for the horses, then!” said Isaline.

“Well, if you think best!” answered Henry.

They immediately began to descend the mound,
and, reaching the bottom in safety, went out of the
inclosure through the northwestern opening. They
then began to pick their way over the trunks and
through the tangled branches of the fallen trees; and
though they made what haste they could, they were
nearly an hour in getting to the point they aimed at

beyond the track of the tornado. Here their progress
in that direction was stopped by a reedy marsh, now
covered with some two or three feet of water, which,
as the rain still continued to pour, was every moment
gradually rising. As Henry had foreseen, they could
not cross this, but would have to go around it; and
as the fallen forest came up close to its margin, there
was no other way than to continue to push over and
through the matted trees as they had been doing. In
one respect they had made a great miscalculation,
and that was concerning the time it would take them
to accomplish their purpose. Before setting out,
they had supposed that an hour, and even a much
less period, would be quite sufficient for them to
reach the horses; but an hour had been consumed in
getting to the marsh, and it took them more than another
hour to work their way around to the ridge
where they could move forward with far less difficulty.
When at last they reached the rock where
they had seen the animals quietly standing together,
neither beast was there, nor even in sight.

Isaline uttered a cry of vexatious disappointment.

“All this valuable time lost and nothing accomplished!”
she said.

“They cannot be far off, I think!” returned Henry,
with an uneasy look. “By following this ridge
around a little further, I doubt not we shall find
them quietly feeding in some sequestered nook.
See! here are their tracks in the wet earth, and it is
no difficult matter to pursue so clear a trail.”

They went forward again, hoping every minute
to find the beasts they sought, but every minute
getting further from their friends and having so
much less of daylight left to them. It was certainly
not a prudent undertaking, this going in
quest of the horses, and they now admitted it to
each other. The trail led them into a thicket, and the
search consumed another hour without any favourable
result.

“This is too bad!” at last exclaimed Henry, coming
to a stop; “you are being all tired out, dear
Isaline, and no good accomplished! Three hours of
such labor in the other direction would have carried
us to our companions, even supposing them to have
made no halt short of the ford, and now we have all
that ground to go over, with only a little more than
an hour of daylight left to us!”

“Then we must give up this search for the horses
and go back at once!” said Isaline.

“Yes, yes—we have no time to waste!” returned
Henry, anxiously. “I blame myself severely that I
did not come to this decision sooner; but I was lured
on by the hope that we should presently have our
horses in our possession again, and would not have
to make the backward journey on foot. What has
caused these beasts to lead us such a chase I am at
a loss to imagine!”

“Perhaps they have been led or ridden themselves!”
suggested Isaline.

Henry started, and turned toward her a look expressive
of suspicion and alarm.

“God forbid,” he said, “that there should be enemies
abroad in the wilderness here, and we in such
a defenceless condition! Let us hasten back, dear
Isaline, but not the way we came. Here! we will
strike out another course toward the ridge you see
vonder, and follow it round on the other side. We
will return to the rock where the horses were—for
since you have made the alarming suggestion, I am
anxious to see if we really have any such cause for
fear.”

They started instantly, in great haste—for though
there might be no other danger, they feared the night
would set in before they could get across the fallen
timbers in the direction of their companions—and to
be caught out alone in the darkness, in such a dreary
waste, would be in itself a calamity. By the new
route they took, and the speed they made, they returned
to the rock where they had seen the horses
in something like half an hour.

“Gracious God, preserve us!” ejaculated the young
man, turning pale and pointing to the broad trail,
first made by the animals and then by themselves
in going in pursuit of them.

“What is it, Henry?” gasped his frightened companion,
nervously clutching his arm.

“Whether the horses were led off, or ridden off, I
cannot say—but here are prints of moccasined feet,
which were not here when we set off in search of

them! May God in His mercy help us and save
us! for our own trail has surely been followed by
savages!”

Isaline uttered no cry and made no reply, but
looked wildly and helplessly into his pale face, on
which were already standing great beads of perspiration,
wrung from him by the agony of thinking of
their exposed and defenceless situation.

“Come!” he exclaimed, throwing his arm around
her almost fainting form, to give her his manly support,
and half lifting her from her feet, at the same
time glancing fearfully about him, as if he expected
to behold a hideous savage start from every bush;
“we must fly, dear Isaline—fast and far—fast and
far—and may God in His mercy give us strength
to run and deliverance from these awful perils!”