Then he shouted:
"Go back, Paul! I'll bring her in."
But Paul would not turn. There was fire in his blood. He considered it
as much his duty to help as it was Henry's. Moreover, he would not
desert his comrade.
The fugitive, driven by the storm acting upon its wild nature, continued
at great speed, and the panting boys were not able to overtake her. So
on the trio went, plunging through the woods, and saving themselves from
falls, or collisions with trees, only by the light from the flashes of
lightning. Many boys, even on the border, would have turned back, but
there was something tenacious in Henry's nature; he had undertaken to do
a thing, and he did not wish to give it up. Besides that cow was too
valuable. And Paul would not leave his comrade.
Away the cow went, and behind her ran her pursuers. The rain came
rushing and roaring through the woods, falling now in sheets, while
overhead the lightning still burned, and the thunder still crashed,
though with less frequency. Both the boys were drenched, but they did
not mind it; they did not even know it at the time. The lightning died
presently, the thunder ceased to rumble, and then the darkness fell like
a great blanket over the whole forest.
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