and sure enough he heard it. His eyes sparkled as he straightened up in his chair alert. “There, Homer, that’s the barn door, and as awful as this storm is, we must get out to the barn and tie it shut, or this wind will tear it off its hinges in less than an hour. And what’s more, such a storm as this might tear the roof off the barn, if it gets under it. It’s the worst storm I have ever seen in Oregon.” There was nothing to do but put on all the rubber clothes we could find, tie them, and take a lantern and start for the barn, some fifty yards from the house.
We held on to each other for protection, the light going out with almost the first awful crash of the storm. We hung on to each other for dear life, and bunted against a turkey and some chickens. They had been blown out of the trees where they were roosting, and were groping about on the ground. We reached the barn, got inside and stood for a moment almost exhausted, and drenched to the skin.
We noticed that there wasn’t a light streak anywhere in the sky. We relit the lantern, for it was as black as pitch, and the roar of the
