THE STORM. 89 



save a dim dark line bounding the horizon to the 

 right, which I am told are mountains, from which 

 all the wood used in the garrison is dragged by 

 mules and ox-teams. I spend a delightful even- 

 ing, and sleep at Captain Dent's. 



June 9. I am again en route for old Walla- 

 walla, to catch the steamer. The stage has no 

 other passenger. I can see by the black masses 

 of cloud, rolling like huge waves one after ano- 

 ther, that a storm of no trifling nature is about 

 to break over us. It rapidly darkens, and the 

 first flash of hVhtnmo- hisses through the stage, 



t ' o o o ' 



followed instantly by a deafening peal of thunder ; 

 the wind, as if suddenly let loose, rushes across 

 the waste, carrying with it sand enough to bury 

 one ; flash follows flash so rapidly, that the dismal 

 plain seems permanently lighted; the crashing 

 thunder-claps completely overpower all other 

 sounds, and the rain begins to pour down in a 

 very deluge. 



The storm does not last long; but the driver, 

 blinded by the sand, and the glare of the lightning, 

 has missed his way, and we are clearly in the 

 Walla-walla river. The stage fills rapidly. I 

 dash open the door, determined, at least, to 

 have a swim for my life ; there is a terrible 

 scrambling of the horses, accompanied with a 



