The Boy with the U. S. Weather Men | Page 2

Francis Rolt-Wheeler
New Way 162 Kite-Flying--The Old Way 162 The Explorer of the Upper Air 172 Snow-Flakes from the Upper Regions of the Air 186 Snow-Flakes from the Middle Regions of the Air 186 Snow-Flakes from the Lower Regions of the Air 186 Ringing the Frost Alarm 192 Fighting Frost in an Orchard--Night 206 Fighting Frost in an Orchard--Dawn 206 Bucking a Snow-Drift 212 Clear the Way! 212 Measuring the Blizzard's Rage 224 Signals on Delaware Breakwater 236 Signal Tower for Storm Warnings 236 Thermometers and Rain-Gauge 246 Pencil Drawings of Tornado in Dakota 256 True Tornado Forming in Advance of a Dust Whirl 268 Tornado Dropping Towards Ground 268 Tornado Wrecking a Farm 276 Tornado Whirling Sidewise 276 Galveston Causeway Before and After the Hurricane 286 Shot from the Gun of a Hurricane 296 Scale of Winds, Illustrated by Clipper Ships 304 Branch Lightning and Multiple Flash 314 Eiffel Tower Struck by Lightning 320 Lightning Flash Striking Building 320 Mules Carried in the Air Three Miles from Their Stable 328 Grand Piano Picked Up by a Tornado and Dropped in a 328 Cow-Pasture

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. WEATHER MEN
CHAPTER I
ADRIFT ON THE FLOODED RIVER
"What is it, Rex, old boy? What are you after? Somebody else in trouble, eh?"
Ross looked down through the pouring rain at his Airedale, who was pulling at his trouser leg with sharp, determined jerks. The dog looked far more like a seal than a terrier, his hair dripping water at every point, while a cascade streamed from his tail. The boy was every whit as wet. Here and there, through the slanting lines of rain, could be seen the smoky gleams of camp-fires, around which, shivering, gathered the hundreds of people who had been rendered homeless by the flooded Mississippi.
The lad turned to his father, who was bandaging a child's wrist, which had been broken during the work of rescue.
"It looks as if I ought to go, Father," he suggested, "that's if you don't mind. By the way Rex is going on, there's something up, for sure."
"Go ahead, then, son," his father agreed, "the dog's got sense enough for a dozen. Watch out for yourself, though, and don't get foolhardy," he added warningly, as the lad disappeared in the darkness; "you've got to be right careful when the Mississippi's in flood."
"I'll watch out," Ross answered reassuringly, as he started off with the dog, and, a moment later, the glow of the camp-fire was blotted out in the falling rain.
"This is your hike, Rex," announced the lad; "you lead and I'll follow."
The Airedale cocked up one ear on hearing his young master's voice, then, putting his head knowingly on one side, as if he understood every word that had been said, he trotted to the front and splashed through the pools of mud and water, his stump of a tail wagging with evident satisfaction.
Ross was used to all kinds of weather, but a downpour such as this he had never seen before. The rain fell steadily and relentlessly, with never a pause between. The night was too dark to see clearly, as the sheets of water were swept before the wind, but their force was terrific. Several times the boy had to turn his back to the driving storm and gasp, in order to get his breath.
"Where are you going, old boy?" again queried Ross.
The terrier paused, shook himself so that the drops flew in all directions, looked up in his master's face, gave a short sharp bark and trotted on.
Ross leaned down, patted the dog, and followed. By some instinct of his own, the terrier was keeping to a submerged road, though how he managed to remain on it was beyond the lad's comprehension, for the night was as dark as a wolf's throat and the path was under water half the time.
Suddenly the dog stopped and looked back as though for guidance. Before them was a swirl of water. In the darkness it was impossible to say how deep the wash-out might be, or how wide. Ross hesitated. His father had warned him against foolhardiness, and here he was facing the crossing of a swift current of unknown depth on a pitch-black night. Should he venture?
Rex barked, a short excited "yap" of urgency.
"I'll go as far as I can wade, anyhow," said Ross in response; "maybe it isn't so deep after all. I'm not particularly anxious to have to swim."
The terrier watched his master, and as soon as the boy started to cross the wash-out in the road-bed, the dog plunged in. The current swept him down rapidly, but Rex was a powerful swimmer and the lad had little fear for him. It took all his own strength to keep him from being swept off his feet, but the break in the road was not
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