  All day long the air was thick and murky. All day long there were signs of a gathering storm. Great big banks of fierce, sullen clouds began to bank up in the afternoon, and far-off, ominous sounds of thunder were heard. At first it was a mere growl, and the edges of the great jagged clouds were illumined by lightning. By-and-bye the thunder grew louder, and cruel forked and chain lightning began to play in the heavens. The children wandered round the verandah and looked at the sky, and wondered and wondered again would it rain. “I believe it’ll be the end of the drought,” said Mother, hopefully. Eva had a rug ready to cover her head when the thunder grew louder, for she was terrified of storms; and Baby and Doris would squeal that they were frightened. Mollie and Eileen, too, hung in the background, blinking at each flash and sincerely hoping that it would soon be over. Old Joe was in his element, and talked volubly to Mother and Uncle. “I said all along it’d break this way, same as the ’82 druith. There’s the same bank of clouds down west, and another storm abrewin’ over ’ere. They’ll meet directly, and there’ll be the deuce of a smash. Shouldn’t wonder if the creek ain’t up to-night——” “Oh, Joe! wouldn’t it be lovely?” chimed in the children. “An’ it’s more’n likely she will be. I recollect the time the ’82 broke. Why, all the rivers and creeks and gullies and gilgies and swamps were runnin’ mountains high!” A low moaning sound reached their ears, and they looked at each other in alarm. “Oh, Joe! what’s that?” asked Eva, creeping up to him. “It’s the wind. It’s comin’ this time, right enough. Got the windows closed? She’s comin’ strong,” said Joe, who dearly loved a storm, and had no fear of even the “dizziest” chain lightning, much to the little girls’ admiration. “I wonder will it hurt us, Joe?” asked Eva. “’Urt you? ’Ow could it ’urt you?” asked Joe, with fine scorn. “Just you watch the lightning play up in them clouds directly; it’ll be real pretty.” But already Eva’s head was enveloped in her rug. “Sakes alive! you’ll be smothered before it’s over!” cried Joe. The moaning sound grew louder and louder, and the leaves began to tremble and the branches to sway, while great flights of bush birds winged their way hurriedly away to the east. “Look at ’em!” cried Joe—“same as the ’82!” At last, with a sudden gust of fury, the trees were tossed and bent before the weight of the gale. “Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wish the others were in,” cried Mother anxiously, and then away across the paddock Father and Frank were seen coming at full speed. They pulled the saddles and bridles off their horses and turned them loose, and then rushed into the house as a blinding flash of lightning lit up the gathering darkness. “Ah, here we are!” cried Frank’s ringing voice, for ever since the evening that Uncle had spoken he had been a different Frank, and his laugh rang clear and gay on every possible pretext. For such is the power of a gleam of hope. How the storm raged and tore! Clap after clap and flash after flash! Away in the distance a tree was heard to crash to the ground, and then great drops of rain began to fall, banging on to the iron roof as though they would come through. Then it fell in blinding sheets, and fairly danced on the hard glazed ground. “The same as the ’82,” said Joe again, as he lit his pipe; “all the creeks’ll be down in the mornin’, and we’ll have to move them sheep,” he went on complacently. Sure enough, when morning came, the creeks and gullies were roaring with thick, muddy waters, and thousands of frogs were croaking lustily. And what a time the children had, wading through the muddy streams, and finding all the ruins of the trees that had fallen, and making “ridey-horses” out of the great branches that had once reared themselves so proudly in the air. For the rain had poured steadily all night, and the cruel drought was ended. |
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