130 Hunting Trips of a Ranchman 



toward each side, as if to overlap any that tried to 

 avoid its path. Against the dark background of 

 the mass could be seen pillars and clouds of gray 

 mist, whirled hither and thither by the wind, and 

 sheets of level rain driven before it. The edges 

 of the wings tossed to and fro, and the wind 

 shrieked and moaned as it swept over the prairie. 

 It was a storm of unusual intensity ; the prairie fowl 

 rose in flocks from before it, scudding with spread 

 wings toward the thickest cover, and the herds of 

 antelope ran across the plain like race-horses to 

 gather in the hollows and behind the low ridges. 



We spurred hard to get out of the open, riding 

 with loose reins for the creek. The centre of the 

 storm swept by behind us, fairly across our track, 

 and we only got a wipe from the tail of it. Yet 

 this itself we could not have faced in the open. 

 The first gust caught us a few hundred yards from 

 the creek, almost taking us from the saddle, and 

 driving the rain and hail in stinging level sheets 

 against us. We galloped to the edge of a deep 

 wash-out, scrambled into it at the risk of our necks, 

 and huddled up with our horses underneath the 

 windward bank. Here we remained pretty well 

 sheltered until the storm was over. Although it 

 was August, the air became very cold. The wagon 

 was fairly caught, and would have been blown over 

 if the top had been on ; the driver and horses escaped 

 without injury, pressing under the leeward side, 

 the storm coming so level that they did not need 

 a roof to protect them from the hail. Where the 



