As it
twisted the weak ropes, receiving the strain in turn, snapped one after
another; then the great stack moved solemnly forward, stuck fast, moved
again, lost its center of gravity and foundered like a ship. Under the
lightning they saw it heave upward upon one side, plunge forward against
the torrent which had swept its base from beneath it, and vanish. The
farmer heaved a bitter groan.
"Dear God, that sich things can be in a Christian land," he cried. "All
gone, this year, an' last, an' the aftermath; an' Lard He knaws what be
doin' in the valley bottom. I wish the light may strike me dead wheer I
stand, for I be a blot afore Him, else I'd never be made to suffer like
this here. Awnly if any man among 'e will up an' tell me what I've done
I'll thank en."
"'Tis the land as have sinned, not you," said Mary. "This reaches more'n us
o' Drift. Come your ways an' get out o' these clothes, else you'll catch
your death. Come to the house, all of 'e," she cried to the rest. "Theer
ban't no more for us to do till marnin' light."
"If ever it do come," groaned the man Bartlett. "So like's not the end o'
the world be here; an' I'd be fust to hollo it, awnly theer's more water
than fire here when all's said, an' the airth's to be burned, not drowned."
"Let a come when a will now," gasped an aged man as the drenched party
moved slowly away upward to the farm; "our ears be tuned to the trump o'
God, for nort--no, not the screech o' horns blawed by all the angels in
heaven--could sound awfuler than the tantarra o' this gert tempest.
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