But in so much of the Continent today there is no time for the circus. In Germany, for example, the circus is almost dead. Perhaps it is due to television—or, perhaps, to there not being enough children. The circus is for children, you know. In Ireland last year it was very good. There is not much television in Ireland and there are many children.”

Amid the crashes of thunder, the lightning made the world of saw grass outside leap vividly into sight, with one green ball of fire after another brightening the darkness. It was weird and frightening. One lightning bolt missed the shed by what seemed like a few yards, and for a dizzy moment Alec felt the tingle of static electricity in his body.

He heard the captain’s voice and was astounded to find him still talking about his work.

“Do you think Americans will be pleased with my act?” the captain asked.

Alec was quick to note the slight hesitancy in his voice that betrayed his worldliness and contempt for the storm.

“I think they’ll like your mare very much,” he said. “Americans love horses and will appreciate one so well trained as yours.”

He had no sooner spoken than a great flash of lightning bathed the inside of the shed in an eerie garish light. He held his breath, expecting the earth to erupt beneath his feet; his hands tightened around the Black’s neck.

The roof of the shed toppled but was held from falling by two wooden beams.

Alec looked up at the sagging roof. “It’ll hold,” he said. “A tree must have fallen on it.”

When the captain spoke, his voice was charged with emotion he could not control. “It would take a man of iron not to fear such force as this,” he said shakily. “We are indeed in the hands of the gods.”

Alec turned to the window and watched the giant black thunderheads move overhead. He expected them to bring heavy rain and provide a respite from the fearful bolts of lightning. They marched by in what seemed to be never-ending columns and brought only a slight drizzle instead of the deluge he had expected. The lightning never lessened in its intensity. The saw-grass world was lit up with successive flashes, and Alec knew that if it did not rain, the Everglades might well be destroyed by fire from the bolts.

He ducked instinctively as another ball of green fire shattered the darkness. The captain said not a word. There was a deep silence between him and Alec. Their lives had whittled down to a grim, waiting battle for survival. They could only wait and pray and hope the lightning would not strike the shed.

The storm went on for a long time, longer than Alec ever had known one to last. There seemed to be no end to the fury of the wind and fierce lightning. It was almost as if the wrath of the heavens had been turned against them instead of the storm’s being a natural phenomenon of clouds and barometric pressures.

It was night when, finally, the storm came to an end. Alec watched the sky clear and saw the first stars; he gave no thought to where he was … or to the captain … or going home or staying. Nothing mattered except that he and his horse had survived. He led the Black from the shed and walked about the clearing, avoiding the fallen trees.

The captain passed him, his eyes unfocused and staring. Alec knew where he was going and followed. They found the barn and house intact. It seemed incredible, when everything else was a shambles.