style="font-size:15px;"> “There’s a common belief that the hills and lake protect us so a tornado will never strike here,” said Tom.
“We’ll soon know about that,” said the doctor grimly.
They got the exhausted boatman to the entrance of the cellar, where Mrs. Blair was anxiously awaiting their return.
“Are you all right, Helen?” she asked.
“A little wet on my lower extremities,” replied the young editor of the Herald. “I simply had to go, mother.”
“Of course you did,” said Mrs. Blair. “It was dangerous but I’m proud of you Helen.”
Mrs. Stevens brought out blankets and wrapped them around Jim Preston’s shoulders while Margaret took candles down into the storm cellar.
The noise of the storm had increased to such an intensity that conversation was almost impossible.
Doctor Stevens maintained his watchful vigil, noting every movement of the tornado.
The sky was so dark that the daylight had faded into dusk although it was only a few minutes after three. The whole western sky was filled with coal-black clouds and out of the center of this ominous mass rushed the lashing tongue which was destroying everything it touched.
On and on came the storm, advancing with a deadly relentlessness. A farm house a little more than a mile away on one of the hills overlooking the lake exploded as though a charge of dynamite had been set off beneath it.
“It’s terrible, terrible,” sobbed Margaret Stevens, who had come out of the cellar to watch the storm.
“We’re going to get hit,” Tom warned them.
“I’ve got to get home,” said Jim Preston, struggling out of the blankets which Mrs. Stevens had wrapped around him. “My wife’s all alone.”
“Stay here, Jim,” commanded Doctor Stevens. “You couldn’t get more than three or four blocks before the storm strikes and your place is clear across town. Everybody into the cellar,” he commanded.
Mrs. Stevens and Helen’s mother went first to light the candles. They were followed by Margaret and Helen, then Tom and Jim Preston and finally the doctor, who remained in the doorway on guard.
“What will this do to the Herald?” Helen whispered to Tom.
Her brother nudged her hard.
“Don’t let Mother hear you,” he replied. “There is nothing we can do now except hope. The Herald building may not be destroyed.”
Helen dropped to the floor and her head bowed in prayer. Their father’s illness had been a blow and to have the Herald plant destroyed by a tornado would be almost more than they could bear.
The noise of the tornado was terrific and they felt the earth trembling at the fury of the storm gods.
Helen had seen pictures of towns razed by tornadoes but she had never dreamed that she would be in one herself.
Suddenly the roar of the storm lessened and Doctor Stevens cautiously opened the door of the storm cellar.
“We’re safe!” he cried.
They trooped out of the cellar. The tornado had swung away from Rolfe without striking the town itself and was lashing its way down the center of Lake Dubar.
“It will wear itself out before it reaches the end of the lake,” predicted Jim Preston.
“I don’t believe any houses in town were damaged,” said Doctor Stevens. “A hen house and garage or two may have been unroofed but that will be about all.”
“How about the farmers back in the hills?” asked Helen.
“They must have fared pretty badly if they were in the center of the storm,” said the doctor. “I’m going to get my car and start out that way. Someone may need medical attention.”
“Can I go with you?” asked Helen. “I want to get all the facts about the storm for my story for the Herald.”
“Glad to have you,” said the doctor.
“Count me in,” said Margaret Stevens. “I’ve joined Helen’s staff as her first reporter,” she told her father.
“If you want to go down the lake in the morning and see what happened at the far end I’ll be glad to take you,” suggested Jim Preston. “I’m mighty grateful for what you and Tom did for me and I’ll have the Liberty ready to go by morning.”
“What about the Flyer?” asked Tom.
“I’ll have to fish her out of the lake sometime next week,” grinned the boatman. “I’m lucky even to be here, but I am, thanks to you.”
Doctor Stevens backed his sedan out of the garage and Helen started toward the car.
“You can’t go looking like that,” protested her mother. “Your shoes and hose are wet and dirty and your dress looks something like a mop.”
“Can’t help the looks, mother,” smiled Helen. “I’ll have to go as I am. This is my first big news and the story comes first.”
CHAPTER V
Reporting Plus
Clouds which followed the terrific wind unleashed their burden and a gray curtain of rain swept down from the heavens.
“Get your slickers,” Doctor Stevens called to the girls and Helen raced across the street for her coat and a storm hat.
“Better put on those heavy, high-topped boots you use for hiking,” Tom advised Helen when they had reached the shelter of their own home. “You’ll probably be gone the rest of the afternoon and you’ll need the boots.”
Helen nodded her agreement and rummaged through the down stairs closet for the sturdy boots. She dragged them out and untangled the laces. Then she kicked off her oxfords and started to slide her feet into the boots. Her mother stopped her.
“Put on these woolen stockings,” she said. “Those light silk ones will wear through in an hour and your heels will be chafed raw.”
With heavy stockings and boots on, Helen slipped into the slicker which Tom held for her. She put on her old felt hat just as Doctor Stevens’ car honked.
“Bye, Mother,” she cried. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all right with the doctor and Margaret.”
“Get all the news,” cautioned Tom as Helen ran through the storm and climbed into the doctor’s sedan.
Margaret Stevens was also wearing heavy shoes and a slicker while the doctor had put on knee length rubber boots and a heavy ulster.
“We’ll get plenty of rain before we’re back,” he told the girls, “and we’ll have to walk where the roads are impassable.”
They stopped down town and Doctor Stevens ran into his office to see if any calls had been left for him. When he returned his face
