I cannot describe what followed. It was as if the earth were in its death throes. We were tossed back and forth in this tunnel, a resistless suction pulling us first toward one entrance and then to the other, only to be hurled back by buffeting blows. There was a sense of suffocation as if the lightning had burned the air. Our nostrils were filled with the fumes of sulphur, and we looked into each other's frightened eyes only when some near flash penetrated the awful blackness of what seemed our living tomb. A tree fell across the west opening, one twisted limb projecting well into the tunnel of the culvert. We could not distinguish the crashes of thunder from that of hurtling trees or the demoniac roar of the tornado. All of our senses were assailed by the unleashed furies of the tempest; crazed with rage that we were just beyond their reach. I cannot say how long this lasted. Observers of the tornado in other places state that it was not more than three minutes in passing. Its path was less than half a mile in width, but I am convinced that its onward speed was comparatively slow else we would not have reached the culvert from the time I first saw it until its edge struck us. Then came a moment of appalling silence. The tornado had passed. With this strange calm the darkness lifted and we knew that the crisis was over. [Illustration: "Grasping her by the arm I dragged her"] We were near the centre of the tunnel. I became aware that I was holding her hands and that her head was resting on my shoulder. As the silence came like a shock, she raised her head and our eyes met. "God has been very good to us," she said, gently releasing her hands. "Let us thank Him." Standing there in the rising waters we silently offered up our thanks to the One who rides on the wings of the storm and Who had guided two of His children to a haven of refuge. The rain was still falling in sheets and the water had risen to our shoe-tops. In the growing light I discovered a projecting ledge near the centre of our shelter and helped Miss Harding to obtain a footing. "If the water keeps on rising," she said, "we must get out of here. I am sure the rain will not kill us." "That's true," I admitted, "but I hope the rain will cease before the flood reaches your ledge. It's coming down good and hard now." It was pouring torrents. Though the crippled stream drained only a small territory the current had already reached my knees. I waded to the east opening and took one glance at the sky. The outlook was not encouraging, but we could stand another eighteen-inch rise without serious discomfort or danger. I realised that it would not do to be swept against the tree which partially clogged the further opening. Half an hour passed and the rain still fell and the water rose inch by inch. We laughed and joked and were not in the least alarmed. Then the water lapped over the ledge on which she stood. She declared that her feet were wet as they possibly could get.