The harsh rustle it made was followed by a deafening crash, and a jagged streak of lightning fell from the leaden clouds; then the air was filled with the roar of driving hail.

It swept the woods, rending leaves and smashing twigs, while a constant blaze of lightning flickered about the grass.

Then the thunder died away and the hail gave place to torrential rain, while the slender trees rocked in the blast and small branches drove past the tent, where the men crouched inside.

After the rain ceased, suddenly, a fierce red light streamed along the saturated grass from the huge sinking sun.
Harding, with Gardner's help, brought his pile of wood out of the tent, and soon made a fire; and it was getting dark, though a band of transcendental green still burned upon the prairie's western edge, when they finished supper and, sitting round the fire, took out their pipes.
The hobbled horses were quietly grazing near them.
"That's undoubtedly a fine animal," Blake observed.

"Is it yours ?" "No; it belongs to Clarke's Englishman." "Who's he?
It's a curious way to speak of a fellow." "It fits him," laughed Gardner.