BEYOND THE REALM OF WEATHER 211 



I took it and gulped, protesting: &quot;Detest 

 able stuff! Wait, I ll take some more.&quot; 



&quot;This from you! You must be cold! Come 

 on! Run! Look out for the little ditches! 

 Jump where I do.&quot; 



We started stiffly enough, in the teeth of 

 the big, dark wind, till the motion, and the 

 bottle, began to take effect. A haymow 

 loomed. W 7 e flung ourselves, panting, against 

 it, and, sinking back into its yielding bulk, 

 drew long breaths. 



&quot;Did we think it was cold ?&quot; I murmured; 

 &quot;or windy?&quot; 



We were on the leeward side of it, and it 

 gave generous shelter. The wind sighed gently 

 over the top of the mow, breathed past its 

 sides, never touching us, and we gazed up at 

 the stars. 



&quot;The sky is fairly gray with them,&quot; I said. 



&quot;Perhaps,&quot; said Jonathan lazily, &quot;it s that 

 bottle, making you see ten stars grow where 

 one grew before.&quot; 



&quot;Perhaps,&quot; I suggested, choosing to ignore 

 this speech, &quot;it s the wind, blowing the stars 

 around and raising star-dust.&quot; 



W r e lay in our protecting mow, and the 



