On and on they went in their mad career, horses and men close behind them. We could do nothing but follow them and, when the storm abated, collect them and drive them back to the station. The rain came down in torrents and the lightning almost blinded one, so vivid and terrific were the flashes, while the claps of thunder which followed seemed to shake the earth. We had been going at a tremendous pace for perhaps ten minutes, when a small range of hills loomed up in front. I knew what would happen when the cattle reached this, and was of course prepared. I yelled out to Munroe to keep close to me, so as to follow my instructions. "The beasts will stop at these hills and either wheel round or else turn off to the right or left," I shouted. Suddenly the whole herd stopped and, sniffing the air for a moment, seemed undetermined what course to take. At that critical moment an awful flash of lightning rent the air, completely blinding me for a moment, and simultaneously I heard a terrific report immediately behind me. These two occurrences decided the cattle, and they turned and went pell-mell along the foot of the hills to the right. For the moment I scarcely knew what had happened, but as the last of the herd disappeared I turned round and called to young Munroe. "Are you there, Harry?" I cried, but I got no answer. Again and again I shouted, riding a little distance after every shout, but no answering hail reached me. I knew Munroe would not follow the herd without me, and at length I came to the conclusion that something must be amiss with him. Perhaps his horse had stumbled and thrown him, or he had been caught and overwhelmed by the passing herd. There was nothing to be done, however, but to wait for the daylight; I dare not move in the pitch blackness for fear of trampling upon him. Already drenched to the skin, and with the rain still pouring down in torrents, the lightning and the deafening peals of thunder combined to make that night the most miserable of my existence. I had to keep on the look-out, too, for any signs of the cattle, as they might easily, from some cause or another, return along the base of the hills. They did not appear, however, and so I kept my watch through that awful night alone. I do not know how long the storm lasted, but it must have been two or three hours at least. [Illustration: LIONEL BEAKBANE, THE COWBOY WHO HERE TELLS THE STORY OF THE TERRIBLE FATE THAT BEFELL HIS COMPANION ON THE PRAIRIE DURING AN APPALLING THUNDERSTORM. _From a Photograph._ ] At last, to my infinite relief, the dawn arrived, and I looked round anxiously for some signs of Harry Munroe. I had not gone far when, at a short distance, I discerned the figures of poor Harry and his horse, lying motionless on the ground. Leaving my own horse I ran towards them. It was apparent, long before I reached them, that both man and horse were dead.