There was a startling answer; a lance of living fire hurled from the sky, riving the fields before his eyes, while crash on crash of artillery numbed his ears. With that his common-sense awoke and he looked about him. He was almost two miles from town; the nearest house was the Briscoes' far down the road. He knew the rain would come now. There was a big oak near him at the roadside. He stepped under its sheltering branches and leaned against the great trunk, wiping the perspiration and dust from his face. A moment of stunned quiet had succeeded the peal of thunder. It was followed by several moments of incessant lightning that played along the road and danced in the fields. From that intolerable brightness he turned his head and saw, standing against the fence, five feet away, a man, leaning over the top rail and looking at him. The same flash staggered brilliantly before Helen's eyes as she crouched against the back steps of the brick house. It scarred a picture like a marine of big waves: the tossing tops of the orchard trees; for in the same second the full fury of the storm was loosed, wind and rain and hail. It drove her against the kitchen door with cruel force; the latch lifted, the door blew open violently, and she struggled to close it in vain. The house seemed to rock. A lamp flickered toward her from the inner doorway and was blown out. “Helen! Helen!” came Minnie's voice, anxiously. “Is that you? We were coming to look for you. Did you get wet?” Mr. Willetts threw his weight against the door and managed to close it. Then Minnie found her friend's hand and led her through the dark hall to the parlor where the judge sat, placidly reading by a student-lamp. Lige chuckled as they left the kitchen. “I guess you didn't try too hard to shut that door, Harkless,” he said, and then, when they came into the lighted room, “Why, where _is_ Harkless?” he asked. “Didn't he come with us from the kitchen?” “No,” answered Helen, faintly; “he's gone.” She sank upon the sofa and drew her hand across her eyes as if to shade them from too sudden light. “Gone!” The judge dropped his book and stared across the table at the girl. “Gone! When?” “Ten minutes--five--half an hour--I don't know. Before the storm commenced.” “Oh!” The old gentleman appeared to be reassured. “Probably he had work to do and wanted to get in before the rain.” But Lige Willetts was turning pale. He swallowed several times with difficulty. “Which way did he go? He didn't come around the house; we were out there till the storm broke.” “He went by the orchard gate. When he got to the road he turned that way.” She pointed to the west. “He must have been crazy!” exclaimed the judge. “What possessed the fellow?”