Look!" said Venters, pointing to the scalloped edge of rolling purple clouds that peeped over the western wall.

"We're in for a storm." "Oh, I hope not.

I'm afraid of storms." "Are you?
Why ?" "Have you ever been down in one of these walled-up pockets in a bad storm ?" "No, now I think of it, I haven't." "Well, it's terrible.

Every summer I get scared to death and hide somewhere in the dark.

Storms up on the sage are bad, but nothing to what they are down here in the canyons.