With astonishing
rapidity the dark mass resolved itself into a gray, obscuring streak of
rain riven by vivid flashes of lightning. Carr laid down his book and
refilled his pipe while he gazed on this common phenomenon of the
dog-days. It swept up and passed over the village of Lone Moose as a
sprinkling wagon passes over a city street. The downpour was accompanied
by crashing detonations that sent the village dogs howling to cover.
With the same uncanny swiftness of gathering so it passed, leaving
behind a pleasant coolness in the air, clean smells of the washed earth
arising. The sun blazed out again. A million rain-pearls hung glistening
on the blades of grass in the meadow before Sam Carr's house.
With the passing of the thunder shower, before Carr left off his
contemplation of the freshened beauty of meadow and woods, a man and a
woman emerged from the spruce forest on the farther side of the meadow.
They walked a little way in the open, stopped for a minute, facing each
other. Their conversation ended with a sudden quick gesture by the man.
Turning, they came on again toward Carr's house. Sam Carr's clear gray
eyes lit up. The ghost of a smile hovered about his bearded lips.
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