The Savage Gentleman by Philip Wylie Read Free Book Online Page B

want to go into the ornament business. It works easily--and it might be something for Henry to learn. There's a book about it around here.
    Benvenuto Cellini and so on."

    The Scot stared at the metal. "I wonder if I could do that sort of thing?"

    "Why not?"

    McCobb developed a new interest which eventually became almost a passion.

    The year 1905 they remembered as the year of 'the hurricane. It came at the turn of the monsoons.

    Henry was at his studies when McCcibb spoke about it to Stone.

    "Probably time for it now."

    "For what?" Henry asked, glad of an excuse to end his work.

    "A change of the prevailing winds," his father said. '' Go ahead, now. Seven plus six plus three divided by four is how much?"

    Outside the skies were thickening--not rapidly as in a northern thundershower, but slowly, as if more fury was to be reaped for patient effort. The sun went out before the morning "schoolwork" was finished. The sky where it had been was first white, then cream colored, then gray in darkening shades to black.

    Leaves withered and scant puffs of air made them swing heavily.

    The first lightning was very far away and merely made the beholders guess that they had caught a flash. Soon distant clouds were evanescently silhouetted. Thunder stirred.

    Then it was on them.

    The wind rose like a siren. The rain came slantwise and so rapidly that it collected on slopes, and the ground in the compound seemed to be bouncing with peas from a celestial hopper. It became impossible to talk in anything like an ordinary tone.

    Henry was Calm. He watched his father's face for his cues. But presently, as the speed and pressure of the gale grew, it became obvious that his father was worried.

    Henry bent toward his ear.

    "It's only wind and rain. They're soft," he shouted.

    His father answered with an absent nod.

    It grew cold--colder than it had ever been on the island. Jack lighted a fire in the grate, but a separate gust came down the chimney and blew it into the room. A second fire was extinguished by a rush of water.

    Henry stared through the window. It was dark outside but he could see the under sides of the nearest trees turned whitely upward in the wind.

    The thunder bowled directly overhead. Lightning never stopped but danced from place to place.

    The wind increased in pitch and velocity until those who sat in the shaking house believed it could increase no more, and until it became intolerable to their nerves, and then it did increase and renew and add to its ferocity.

    Henry was least terrified of all.

    His father thought that the house would go at: any moment. It was unsafe to leave, for huge trees were crashing in the forest and their roots were dragged like brooms across the land.

    Jack sat and rocked his body.

    The Scot muttered steadily.

    Henry bent near to the Negro and heard him wail, "I wish I was home, home, home!"

    When he went to McCobb, the Scot looked at his watch and shouted to him:

    "You better go to bed. That's where all good little boys and girls should be now."

    Henry went finally and sat beside his father on hassock. The thatch was ripped from the roof in a single blast and water began to dribble into the room.

    For six hours the terror was endured and then, abruptly, its last breath whistled over the Indian Ocean and peace was restored.

    The men relaxed.

    It was early night, and here and there a star briefly appeared. Everyone went outdoors to investigate the damage, but Henry was abstracted. He did not react in his usual way when Jack came running from the zebu pen and said that a man was lying under a tree.

    They went, armed, to see. They found a hairy back and a body that had a shape more or less human.

    But it was not a man. It had a tail and a fox-like head and it was dead.

    Stone stared at it.

    "That's a lemur," he said, at last. "A giant lemur. There were some in prehistoric times. They must be mighty shy--not to have showed themselves in all these years.

    Jack frowned.