There was every promise of a storm. It had been a hot, sultry summer's day. The mirage had been dazzling on the plain, and the haze had been dancing since early morning. All nature seemed tired with the heat; the birds had perched among the densest leaves and the cattle had been lying under the shadiest trees. The trees themselves had been drooping with the heat.
Towards evening the leaves began to stir in a gentle breeze which increased to a small gale. In the north-west black clouds had begun to gather and the faint rumble of thunder could be heard like the distant roar of a lion. Everything seemed hushed. Nature seemed to be waiting for the approaching storm. The cattle were now in groups, some grazing, others waiting . . . .
It was now dark. The thunder had become a continuous roar. The sky was lit with almost continuous electric flashes, each followed by the renewed rumble of thunder. Nothing could now be seen or beard but the vivid lightning flashes and the deep mutterings of the thunder. Large drops of rain fell on the roof and they came thicker and thicker, faster and faster, till at last they drowned even the sound of the thunder. The rain then became a steady downpour and the thunder and lightning passed on.
Then the storm passed and the stars shone once more.