"Yes."

"I wish I had," Rhoda said. "Hurry up, Walter, and sling that
antelope across your saddle. Look out that the pony doesn't get
away from you. Maybe he won't like the smell of blood. Quick!"

"What is the matter?" cried Bess, while Grace began to flush and
then pale, as she always did when she was startled.

"It is a storm coming," answered Rhoda shortly.

"But, Rhoda," said Bess, "the wind is blowing the wrong way to
bring that cloud toward us."

"You will find that the wind will change in a minute. And it's
going to blow some, too."

"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Nan, under her breath, "is it what your
father warned us about?"

"A tornado?" cried Walter, from the ground where he was picking up
the dead antelope.

"I never saw a cloud like that that did not bring a big wind,"
Rhoda told them. "We've got to hurry."

"Can we reach home?" asked Bess.

"Not ahead of that. But we'll find some safe place."