Now lightning flashed across the heavens, and by the glare of it we perceived that all the population of Simba Town seemed to be gathered in the market-place.

At least there were some thousands of them, talking, gesticulating, pointing at the sky.
A few minutes later there came a great crash of thunder, of which it was impossible to locate the sound, for it rolled from everywhere.

Then suddenly something hard struck the roof by my side and rebounded, to be followed next moment by a blow upon my shoulder which nearly knocked me flat, although I was well protected by the skin rugs.
"Down the stair!" I called.

"They are stoning us," and suited the action to the word.
Ten seconds later we were both in the room, crouched in its farther corner, for the stones or whatever they were seemed to be following us.
I struck a match, of which fortunately I had some, together with my pipe and a good pocketful of tobacco--my only solace in those days--and, as it burned up, saw first that blood was running down Marut's face, and secondly, that these stones were great lumps of ice, some of them weighing several ounces, which hopped about the floor like live things.
"Hailstorm!" remarked Marut with his accustomed smile.
"Hell storm!" I replied, "for whoever saw hail like that before ?" Then the match burnt out and conversation came to an end for the reason that we could no longer hear each other speak.

The hail came down with a perpetual, rattling roar, that in its sum was one of the most terrible sounds to which I ever listened.