Francis Worcester Doughty

“ Now the fire was blazing merrily and I lighted my pipe, and Maurice his cheroot—the Doctor sponging on my friend for his smoke as usual—and we all seated ourselves on the stone floor beside it, well satisfied with our snug retreat.
“We’re in for a night of it,” said Philpot, “and upon my soul we might have a worse place. Look at his nibs scowling down at us there! To think of men being fools enough to worship that block of stone.”
He was looking up at the big image which returned his gaze with a stony stare, as the flashes from the fire played grotesquely upon its battered face. ”

“ What is so grand as to witness a conflict of the elements in a tropical forest? Nothing that I know of. It brings man to such a thorough realization of his own insignificance; besides I have a place of shelter in view, and shall surely reach it. Perhaps I may see you again before the storm is over. Until then, adieu!”
He bowed low, crossing his arms after the Eastern fashion, and before I could say another word, glided into the thicket and disappeared, leaving us stupidly staring at the place where he had stood.
Philpot was the first to break the silence. ”

“ The thunder, too, was growing deafening, with claps alternately loud and stifled, short and prolonged, sharp and crackling, while blinding flashes of light illuminated our surroundings with terrible distinctness, only to make the darkness more profound when the change came.
But, as yet, no rain—that was still in reserve. Come it must, we knew, and we ran with all speed, peering about for the hill which Mr. Mirrikh had described.
“It’s no use, George! Either there is no tower, or we must have passed it!” cried Maurice. ”