“I wouldn’t be so rash, sister; remember that I mean bus’ness to-day.”

“Just as if you haven’t always done your best; it’s you that are bragging, not I.”

Tim had taken the stones in his right hand with the purpose of giving them the necessary toss in the air, when a blast of wind struck the barn with a force that made it tremble.  They distinctly felt the tremor of the floor beneath them.  He paused and looked into the startled face of his sister with the question: 

“Hadn’t we better run to the house?”

“No,” she replied, her heart so set on beating him that she felt less fear than she would have felt had it been otherwise; “it’s as safe here as in the house; one is as strong as the other; if you want to get out of finishing the game, why, I’ll let you off.”

“You know it isn’t that, Maggie; but the barn isn’t as strong as the house.”

“It has stood a good many harder blows than this; don’t you see it has stopped?  Go on.”

“All right; just as you say,” and up went the pronged pieces and were caught with the same skill as before.  Then he essayed a more difficult feat and failed.  Maggie clapped her hands with delight, and leaned forward to catch up the bits and try her hand.

At that instant something like a tornado or incipient cyclone struck the barn.  They felt the structure swaying, heard the ripping of shingles, and casting his eyes aloft, Tim saw the shingles and framework coming down upon their heads.

It was an appalling moment.  If they remained where they were, both would be crushed to death.  The door was too far away for both to reach it; though it was barely possible that by a quick leap and dash he might get to the open air in the nick of time, but he would die a hundred times over before abandoning his sister.  The open window was too high to be reached from the floor without climbing, and there was no time for that.

The action of a cyclone is always peculiar.  Resistless as is its power, it is often confined to a very narrow space.  The one to which I am now referring whipped off a corner of the roof, so loosening the supports that the whole mass of shingles and rafters covering the larger portion came down as if flung from the air above, while the remainder of the building was left unharmed, the terrified horses not receiving so much as a scratch.

There was one awful second when brother and sister believed that the next would be their last.  Then Tim threw his arm around the neck of Maggie and in a flash drew her forward so that she lay flat on her face and he alongside of her; but the twinkling of an eye before that he had seized the block of wood, rejected some time before as a chair, and stood it on end beside his shoulder, keeping his right arm curved round it so as to hold it upright in position, while the other arm prevented Maggie from rising.

“Don’t move?” he shouted amid the crashing of timbers and the roaring of the gale; “lie still and you won’t be hurt.”