The railroad men had ranged west all the winter, throats exposed and coats left at the wagons.

It was a mild country, a gentle, tender country.
In this laughing sky who could see any cynicism?
The wind was cold, and the wild fowl flew clamouring south from the sheeted pools, but the great hares did not change their colour, and the grouse stayed brown, and the prairie dogs barked joyously.

No harm could come to any one.
The women and children were safe.

Besides, was there not coal at the town?
Quite outside of this, might not one burn coarse grass if necessary, or stalks of corn, or even ears of corn?
No tree showed in scores of miles, and often from smoke to tiny smoke it was farther than one could see, even in the clear blue mocking morn; yet the little houses were low and warm, and each had its makeshift for fuel, and in each the husband ate, and the wife sewed, and the babes wept and prattled as they have in generations past; and none looked on the sky to call it treacherous.
One morning the sun rose with a swift bound into a cloudless field.
The air was mild, dead, absolutely silent and motionless.

The wires along the railway alone sang loudly, as though in warning--a warning unfounded and without apparent cause.