He called to me to take hold of the
tongue and steer the craft around with the stern to the gale. I
did so, while he turned on the wheel.
[Illustration: When the Winds are Breathing Low]
As it came around the loose sides of the cover began to flutter and
crack, while the puckering-string gave way, and the wind swept
through the wagon, carrying everything that was loose before it,
including Ollie, who was just getting over the dash-board. He was
not hurt, but just then we heard a most pitiful yelping, as Jack's
blankets and pillow went rolling away from where the wagon had
stood. It was Snoozer going with them. The yelping disappeared in
the darkness, and we heard frying-pans, tin plates, and other camp
articles clattering away with the rest. The Rattletrap itself had
tried to run before the gale, but I had put on the brake and
stopped it. The three of us then crouched in front of it, and
waited for the wind to blow itself out. We could see or hear
nothing of the horses. There was nota cloud in sight, and the
stars still shone down calmly and unruffled, while the wind cut and
hissed through the long prairie grass all about us.
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