“You are quite right, Alfred,” said Mr. Cottenham. “There is rarely any danger if you do so. Mind you never get into a cart-shed where the front is all open, if there are any iron implements such as a plough in it. Lightning always strikes the highest object, or one which is a good conductor.”
“A good conductor is something, Alfred, through which electricity can easily pass. For instance, glass will not let electricity pass through it, but wire, whether it is copper or iron, will readily conduct it. You know that lightning is electricity from the clouds.”
“Yes, sir,” said Steve, who wished him to continue the tale, not being so desirous of gaining knowledge as his younger friend.
“Let me see; what was I saying?” observed Mr. Cottenham.
“You said, sir, that you got out in the open when you heard the thunder,” replied Steve, readily, lest Alfred should ask any more questions about storms.
“Yes, I remember. The rain now fell in torrents. I was wet through and through. The lightning was very vivid, and the thunder almost as loud as in India. It was, for England, a terrible storm. I had completely lost my way, and walked on, not knowing at all where I was going. I looked in vain in all directions for a house or cottage of any kind, in which I could rest a while, as, although I am a fair walker, I was very tired. The storm became a little less severe for a few minutes, but then it came on worse than ever. The rain again poured, and I was almost blinded by the lightning. Suddenly I heard a loud whistle, and a voice called out--‘Look out!’ I paused, and stood still a moment, when a very bright flash lighted up all around. Imagine my surprise and horror when I saw that I was on the very edge of a deep old mine. One more step, and I must have been killed. For a moment I stood still, looking at the dark pit, then I felt very thankful for such a providential escape, and looked round to see who had called out and thus saved my life. I could see no one; but another flash of lightning showed me a cottage only a few yards off. I went to it, and after knocking at the door, was let in. I asked if I might stay until the storm left off. They said ‘Yes’, at once, and gave me some supper and dried my coat. While I was eating the food, the wife said to her husband, ‘Where’s Polly?’ ‘Outside, I suppose,’ he replied. ‘I had quite forgotten her.’ He went out and brought in a gray parrot, which was wet through. No sooner did Poll come in than it began to shake its feathers, and, putting its head on one side, while it looked at me, said ‘Look out!’ I knew that it was the parrot’s timely warning that had saved my life, and so I determined to buy it. I gave the miner five pounds for it, and I would not sell it for fifty pounds. Now you know, boys, why I value Polly so much, and should still value it, even if it could not speak so well.”