“There’s a big thunder storm coming up,” explained the manager, “and I want to get the people out of the tent before it breaks. I’m going to cut out the final concert.” But, try as he did, the performance took some time, and when he gave orders to omit the chariot and other races, there was such objection from the crowd that he was forced to put them on. The menagerie tent had been struck, the canvas and poles being loaded into wagons, and the vehicles started toward the train. There only remained up the big tent, and as fast as the performers finished they packed their costumes in trunks, which were carted away. “Well, we’re done,” said Sam to Jack, as the clowns finished their turns. “Let’s pack up and get into the car. It’s going to be a bad storm.” “I thought we had had enough rain,” observed the boy. “So did I, but you never can tell much about the weather this time of year.” They donned their regular clothes, and, having packed their trunks, went outside of the dressing-tent. As they did so the whole western sky seemed to burst into a sheet of flame. At the same time there was a loud clap of thunder. “Here it comes!” cried Sam. “Let’s get inside the tent.” No sooner had they gotten under the shelter of the big canvas than the rain came down in torrents. The storm suddenly broke in all its fury. There was incessant lightning, and the thunder was terribly loud. The wind swayed the big stretch of tent, and women began to scream in fright. “There’ll be a panic in a minute,” said Sam, looking rather alarmed. “I guess this will end the show.” It did, for no one cared to look at the races while such a storm was in progress. The crowd began leaving, and men, at the direction of Mr. Paine and his assistants, began taking up the board seats, the rattle and bang of the planks adding to the din and confusion. The race horses were hurried out of the tent, so that if the people made a rush the animals would not get frightened and break loose among them. Suddenly there came a terrific gust of wind. Some of the smaller tent poles began swaying dangerously, for there was a terrible strain on them. “The tent’s falling down!” cried a foolish man. “Run, everybody!” Scores of women screamed, and one or two fainted. Then that seemed to become epidemic, and more women fell backward, pale and trembling. “It’s all right! It’s all right!” cried Mr. Paine, trying to quiet the hysterical ones. “There’s no danger! The tent will not fall!” But his words had no effect. Louder sounded the thunder, and faster fell the rain. The tent seemed swaying more and more, and one of the smaller and unimportant poles snapping in two caused a panic-stricken rush of people from its vicinity. “They’re rushing right against the side of the tent!” cried Sam. “There’s no way to get out there, as it’s against a high bank! There’ll be a lot of women trampled under foot!”