HIS FIRST JOURNEY ACROSS THE PRAIRIES 57 



Creek, ten miles off (from Portage La Prairie). The sky was 

 threatening, but, as we always disregarded appearances, no one 

 proposed a halt. On the open prairie, when just well away from 

 the Hudson's Bay Company's store, we thought we were in for a 

 storm. Every form of beauty was combined in the sky at this 

 time. To the south it was such blue as Titian loved to paint: 

 blue, that those who have seen only dull English skies say there 

 is nowhere to be seen but on canvas or in heaven; and the blue 

 was bordered in the west with vast billowy mountains of the 

 softest, fleeciest white. Next to that, and right ahead of us, was 

 a swollen black cloud along the under surface of which greyer 

 masses were eddying at a terrific rate. Extending from this, and 

 all around the north and east, the expanse was a dun-colored mass 

 livid with lightning, and there, to the right, and behind us, tor- 

 rents of rain were pouring and nearing us every moment. The 

 atmosphere was charged with electricity, on all sides; lightning 

 rushed towards the earth in straight and zig-zag currents and the 

 thunder varied from the sharp rattle of musketry to the roar of 

 artillery; still there was no rain, and but little wind. We pressed 

 on for a house, not far away; but there was to be no escape. 

 With the suddenness of a tornado the wind struck us — at first 

 without rain — but so fierce that the horses were forced again and 

 again off the track. And now, with the wind came rain — thick 

 and furious; and then hail — hail with angular lumps of ice from 

 half an inch to an inch across, a blow on the head from one of 

 which was stunning. Our long line of horses and carts was broken. 

 Some of the poor creatures clung to the road, fighting desperately; 

 others were driven in to the prairie, and, with their backs to the 

 storm, stood still or moved sideways with cowering heads, their 

 manes and long tails floating wildly like those of Highland Sheties. 

 It was a picture for Rosa Bonheur; the storm driving over the 

 vast treeless prairie and the men and horses yielding to or fighting 

 against it. In half an hour we got under the shelter of the log- 

 house, a mile distant; but the fury of the storm was past, and in 

 less than an hour the sun burst forth again, scattering the clouds, 

 till not a blot was left in the sky, save fragments of mist to the 

 south and east." 



