In  the  twisted  crannies  the  sound  reverberated  with
44


THE  BUILDING  OF  CHICAGO  45

the  low  dull  echo  of  muddy  torrents.  Mournfully
and  heavily  it  rumbled  off,  pushing  the  clouds  be
fore  it,  shuffling  and  scrambling  eastward  with  sul
len  explosions  of  pent  ire  and  spitted  fire  of  forked
lightning.  Gloomily  it  lowered  over  the  rolling
breadth  of  the  prairie,  smashing  the  flowers,  and
uprooting  the  grasses  \vith  its  long  claws  of  rain.
