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Around the World on a Bicycle - Volume 1 - From San Francisco to Teheran by Thomas Stevens
page 77 of 572 (13%)
compunction that one discards an old friend, that has gallantly stood
by me through thick and thin throughout the eventful journey across the
inter-mountain country; but the white helmet gives such a delightfully
imposing air to my otherwise forlorn and woebegone figure that I ride
out of Sidney feeling quite vain. The first thing done is to fill a poor
yellow-spotted snake - whose head is boring in the sand - with lively
surprise, by riding over his mottled carcass; and only the fact of the
tire being rubber, and not steel, enables him to escape unscathed. This
same evening, while halting for the night at Lodge Pole Station, the
opportunity of observing the awe-inspiring aspect of a great thunder-storm
on the plains presents itself. With absolutely nothing to obstruct the.
vision the Alpha and Omega of the whole spectacle are plainly observable.
The gradual mustering of the forces is near the Rockies to the westward,
then the skirmish-line of fleecy cloudlets comes rolling and tumbling
in advance, bringing a current of air that causes the ponderous wind-mill
at the railway tank to "about face" sharply, and sets its giant arms
to whirling vigorously around. Behind comes the compact, inky veil that
spreads itself over the whole blue canopy above, seemingly banishing all
hope of the future; and athwart its Cimmerian surface shoot zigzag streaks
of lightning, accompanied by heavy, muttering thunder that rolls and
reverberates over the boundless plains seemingly conscious of the
spaciousness of its play-ground. Broad sheets of electric flame play
along the ground, filling the air with a strange, unnatural light; heavy,
pattering raindrops begin to fall, and, ten minutes after, a pelting,
pitiless down-pour is drenching the sod-cabin of the lonely rancher,
and, for the time being, converting the level plain into a shallow lake.
A fleet of prairie schooners is anchored in the South Platte bottom,
waiting for it to dry up, as I trundle down that stream - every mile made
interesting by reminiscences of Indian fights and massacres - next day,
toward Ogallala; and one of the "Pilgrims" looks wise as I approach,
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