It became very dark, there were tremendous displays of thunder and lightning, which ceased, after a while, as the wind grew stronger, and then through the dark he saw trees and bushes go down.

Fragments struck against the house, but the stout walls held.
The wind kept up a continuous screaming, as full of menace as the crash of a battle.

Part of the time it swept straight ahead, cutting wide swathes, and then, turning into balls of compressed air, it whirled with frightful velocity, smashing everything level with the ground as if it had been cut down by a giant sword.
Robert had seen more than one hurricane in the great northern woods and he watched it without alarm.

Although the house continued to rattle and shake, and now and then a bough, wrenched from its trunk, struck it a heavy blow, he knew that it would hold.

There was a certain comfort in sitting there, dry and secure, while the storm raged without in all its violence.