The haze increased, seeming to
press downwards upon the parched earth. The noonday was dark with
gathering clouds.
At the hour of luncheon there came a slight stir in the bungalow.
Mary Ann thrust her amazing visage round the door and rolled her
eyes in frightened wonder at what she saw. The big _baas_ was
lying across the table, a prone, stricken figure, with his head
upon his arms.
For a few seconds she stood in open-mouthed dismay, thinking him
dead; for she had never seen him thus in life. Then she saw his
shoulders heave convulsively, and promptly she turned and fled.
Again the bungalow was empty and still, the hours dragged on
unheeded. Lower and lower pressed the threatening clouds. But the
man who sat alone in the darkening room was blind to all outward
things. He did not feel the pitiless, storm-laden heat of the day.
He was consumed by the agony of his soul.
It was evening before the end came suddenly; a dancing flash that
lighted the heavens from east to west and, crashing upon it, an
explosion that seemed to rend the earth. It was a cataclysm of
sound, drowning the faculties, stunning the senses, brimming up the
void with awful tumult.
A great start ran through the man's bowed figure. He sat up dazed,
stiffly opening his clenched hands. The world without seemed to be
running with fire.
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