A terrific burst of wind tore around the corner of the bluff.

It eddied through the sulky between the dashboard and the curtained sides.

The widow, in her excitement at finding the advertisement, had inadvertently removed her feet from the pile of papers.

In an instant the air was filled with whirling copies of the Blazeton Weekly Courier.
Henry, the horse, was a sober animal who had long ago reached the age of discretion.

But to have his old ears and eyes suddenly blanketed with a flapping white thing swooping apparently from nowhere was too much even for his sedate nerves.