The lightning increased. Not for the space of a single breath was darkness absolute. In the vivid flashes I could see the bending tree-tops far below, and the tossing, swaying, writhing branches. And ever in my ears was the awful roll of that supernatural music; so full, so deep, so filling all the universe with its changing rhythm! There was something of the ocean's voice in it all, when the wind whips it to fury. I sat dazed, imperfectly comprehending what was passing, but aware all the time of a physical sensation of exquisite pleasure. Music had always wrought upon me thus, but before the presence of this new and strange manifestation my sensibilities were quickened twentyfold. I did not know till later that I was on the peak three hours. I would have said it was only a few minutes. When all was over, and the strings of the Harp were still again, or vibrating only as an echo, I got on my feet, dizzy and weak. All was dark. The lightning, too, had ceased. But as I turned my eyes upward, a rent showed in the cloud canopy, and through this a blood-red meteor fell burning toward the earth. So I knew that the Maestro was pleased with the performance, and from the blooming fields above had cast down a flower in token of His favor. CHAPTER THIRTEEN IN WHICH I SUFFER FOUR SHOCKS, THREE OF THE EARTH AND ONE FROM THE SKY, AND FIND ANOTHER MAID A-FISHING Now that has come to pass of which I had a premonition the first time I sat on the top of old Baldy and hugged my knees. In consequence thereof I write to-night with my left wrist rudely bandaged, from a hurt I took this morning. The day has been full of adventure and surprise, and I find it difficult to harness my leaping brain as I start about my record of events. Truly I have encountered enough to set my mind buzzing, and two long, full pipes since supper have failed to tranquilize and soothe. But the happenings of the day must be transcribed before I go to bed. I went to the post-office soon after breakfast, to see if a reply had come from 'Crombie. A package and a letter awaited me. The thought came to me to run on up the hill and inquire about Beryl Drane, but I didn't. I can't say why I didn't. But I merely asked the sloth-like storekeeper about her instead, and learned from him that she was "putty peart," and was up and about the house. When I passed the blacksmith shop I saw the door was open, but there was no one within. I started to ask the storekeeper where Buck was, but refrained on second thought, and betook myself up the railroad instead, intending to reach home by a circuitous route. By this time I was fairly familiar with the lay of the country, and I had a natural longing for exploration anyway. Then, too, deep in the bottom of my mind, I had laid a plan to come down the huge spur back of Lessie's house, and surprise her with a short visit.