“When did you first realize that you were in danger?” That, ordinarily, would seem to be a foolish question to put to a man who had escaped death as it rode on the storm, and yet it was not a foolish question, but the natural one. For the Galveston people had for years argued out the question of the danger attending the living on the island. True, Indianola, awful even now in memory, stood out as an alarm to those who live down by the sea. True, there had been storms and storms in Galveston. True, there were people on the great mainland who contended that wind and water would bring disaster to Galveston whenever the two acted in concert and from the right direction. But the answer to the Indianola alarm was that the situation of that unfortunate town exposed it to a storm fury; that it was a fair mark; that it was almost level with the water and all that. The fact that there had been storms and storms at Galveston only confirmed the people in their security. For as each had passed away without carrying any great number of lives with them, why should not this do the same? As to the people on the mainland who had prophesied disaster, why, they were merely timid and ignorant people. Therefore the question “when did you realize that you were in danger” was a reasonable one. And the answer was the same in nearly every case. There might have been a difference as to the moment when these people, penned like rats in a cage, first felt the terror of impending death, but invariably the answer was that the storm was almost at its height before the realization came. In many cases only the falling houses brought the realization. One little girl at a grocery store out on avenue P, from which street to the Gulf, the storm swept the island like a broom, answered me: “Mother and my eight little brothers and sisters were upstairs, and I went down to see what the water was doing in the store. You see we live upstairs over the store. My papa is dead a long time ago. When I went down my brother went with me and the water was half way up the counter. But that didn’t scare us, because we have seen high water and heard the winds before. Well, we went back and in a few minutes we were down again. “Then the counter was floating. Brother said not to tell mother, but I did. Then we saw a house tumble down and we heard people crying. We got scared then and me and mamma prayed. We prayed that one of us would not be drowned if the little children were not drowned, because one of us would have to be their mother.” The maternal love was uppermost. But the love of that little girl for her little brothers and sisters, as she told me the story in her simple way, passeth in greatness all understanding. “I FELT THAT THE END HAD COME.” “When did you think you were in real danger?” I asked of a merchant.