The prairie was now wrapped in inky gloom, and there was an impressive
stillness except for the occasional rustle of a leaf; but the stillness
was broken by a puff of icy wind which suddenly stirred the grass. The
harsh rustle it made was followed by a deafening crash, and a jagged
streak of lightning fell from the leaden clouds; then the air was
filled with the roar of driving hail. It swept the woods, rending
leaves and smashing twigs, while a constant blaze of lightning
flickered about the grass. Then the thunder died away and the hail
gave place to torrential rain, while the slender trees rocked in the
blast and small branches drove past the tent, where the men crouched
inside. After the rain ceased, suddenly, a fierce red light streamed
along the saturated grass from the huge sinking sun.

Harding, with Gardner's help, brought his pile of wood out of the tent,
and soon made a fire; and it was getting dark, though a band of
transcendental green still burned upon the prairie's western edge, when
they finished supper and, sitting round the fire, took out their pipes.
The hobbled horses were quietly grazing near them.

"That's undoubtedly a fine animal," Blake observed. "Is it yours?"

"No; it belongs to Clarke's Englishman."

"Who's he? It's a curious way to speak of a fellow."

"It fits him," laughed Gardner. "Guess he's Clarke's, hide and
bones--and that's all there'll be when the doctor gets through with
him. He's a sucker the doctor taught farming and then sold land to."