“Sort of a hop, step, and jump, and that's a fact,” agreed Waldo, now a bit more at his ease since that awful sense of suffocation was lacking. “I thought all cyclones--” “Tornado, my DEAR boy!” expostulated the professor. “I thought they all went in holy hurry, like they were sent for and had mighty little time in which to get there. But this one,--see how it stops to dance a jig and bore holes in the earth!” “Another exception to the general rule, which is as you say,” admitted the professor. “Different tornadoes have been timed as moving from twelve to seventy miles an hour, one passing a given point in half a score of seconds, at another time being registered as fully half an hour in clearing a single section. “Take the destructive storm at Mount Carmel, Illinois, in June of '77. That made progress at the rate of thirty-four miles an hour, yet its force was so mighty that it tore away the spire, vane, and heavy gilded ball of the Methodist church, and kept it in air over a distance of fifteen miles. “Still later was the Texas tornado, doing its awful work at the rate of more than sixty miles an hour; while that which swept through Frankfort, Kansas, on May 17, 1896, was fully a half-hour in crossing a half-mile stretch of bottom-land adjoining the Vermillion River, pausing in its dizzy waltz upon a single spot for long minutes at a time.” “Couldn't have been much left when it got through dancing, if that storm was anything like this one,” declared Waldo, shivering a bit as he watched the awful destruction being wrought right before their fascinated eyes. Trees were twisted off and doubled up like blades of dry grass. Mighty rocks were torn apart from the rugged hills, and huge boulders were tossed into air as though composed of paper. And over all ascended the horrid roar of ruin beyond description, while from that misshapen balloon-cloud, with its flattened top, the electric fluid shone and flashed, now in great sheets as of flame, then in vicious spurts and darts as though innumerable snakes of fire had been turned loose by the winds. Still the aerial demon bored its almost sluggish course straight towards the northwest, in this, as in all else, seemingly bent on proving itself the exception to all exceptions as Professor Featherwit declared. The savant himself was now in his glory, holding the tiller between arm and side, the better to manipulate his hand-camera, with which he was taking repeated snap-shots for future development and reference. Truly, as he more than once declared, mortal man never had, nor mortal man ever would have, such a glorious opportunity for recording the varying phases of nature in travail as was now vouchsafed themselves. “Just think of it, lads!” he cried, almost beside himself with enthusiasm. “This alone will be sufficient to carry our names ringing through all time down the corridors of undying fame! This alone would be more than enough to--Look pleasant, please!”