CHAPTER XII

HAS TO DO WITH STORM AND LIGHTNING; DISCOVERS TOM IN TEARS, AND CONCLUDES THE ADVENTURE

When Mr. Verder gave the word, twenty-three hounds started in pursuit of the hares, and in the foremost group trotted Tom. They had just reached the village when the rain burst, and the way in which they piled into the post-office led the village gossips there assembled to jump from their chairs in terror, thinking they were attacked by a gang of desperadoes. And when the fellows had slammed the door behind them and gathered at the windows to watch the torrent, they saw through the hissing sheets of water the solitary form of Mr. Thomas Courtenay Ferris trotting doggedly on up the road. Then the door opened and closed again, and Bob sped after him.

“What are you going to do, you crazy dub?” panted Bob when he had caught up.

“Cu-cu-catch those fu-fu-fu-fellows,” answered Tom resolutely.

“Why, they’ve given it up by this time, you idiot!”

“I haven’t. I su-su-said I was going to finish, and I am!”

“Poppycock!” muttered Bob. “However, I’ll see you through.”

“You’ll gu-gu-gu-get wet,” said Tom.

“So’ll you.”

“I du-du-du-don’t mind.”

“Neither do I; I like it. Fine, isn’t it?”

“Su-su-swell!” gasped Tom.

So on they plodded, every footfall sending a spray of muddy water against their bare legs, keeping the trail in sight with difficulty, since the torn paper had in many places been washed aside or covered by the pools of water that had already formed along the road. They overran the trail where it left the highway and had to cast about for fully a minute before they found it again, and took off across the field, which was rapidly becoming like a cranberry bog. Once in the forest it wasn’t quite so bad, for the trees afforded some slight protection. But poor Tom’s breath was almost gone, and when they finally reached the place where a pile of wet paper told its own story, he was glad to throw himself down on the wet ground and rest. What to do next was a problem. Finally Bob, with a fair idea of their whereabouts, suggested climbing the hill and reaching the road on the other side. So Tom, with a final gasp, struggled to his feet, and they took up their way again. It was Tom who caught sight of the hut.

“Lu-lu-lu-look over there, Bu-bu-bu-Bob!” he spluttered.

And that is how it happened that Nelson and Dan, horrified one instant by the ghastly object at their feet, were terrorized the next by a sudden loud shout behind them. They turned and fled ignominiously to the door. The flash of lightning had intensified the darkness that followed, and neither saw anything until their exit was suddenly impeded, and even then not enough to understand what was up. Dan collided with Tom just inside the doorway, and, like a center putting out his opponent, bore him backward to the ground. Tom, stammering in surprise at the welcome, clung desperately to his assailant.

“Lu-lu-lu-let go of me! Wha-wha-what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter with you? Gu-gu-gu-get off mu-mu-my stomach!”

Nelson, tumbling out with scared face on the heels of Dan, ran into Bob outside. The latter grabbed him just in time; in another moment he would have been a hundred yards away, and still going.

“What’s the row?” cried Bob, turning from Nelson to where Dan and Tom, the latter on his back in a litter of wet leaves, and the former sitting on top of him, were viewing each other in wide-eyed surprise. “What kind of a game are you fellows playing?”

“Is that you?” muttered Nelson sheepishly.

“Hu--hallo, Tommy!” grunted Dan, pulling him up.

“‘Hallo, Tu-tu-tu-Tommy’ be bu-bu-blowed!” muttered that youth as he found his feet and viewed Dan angrily; “wha-wha-what kind of a fu-fu-funny fu-fu-fool are you?”

At that instant the rain, which had momentarily let up as though interested in the proceedings, came down harder than ever, and the Four crowded inside the hut, Dan and Nelson, however, keeping close to the doorway and casting uneasy glances into the darkness. At length the matter was explained, and Bob, lighting a match, advanced toward the back of the cabin, the others following breathlessly and gazing nervously over his shoulder. As the match flared up, there lay the skeleton, and even Bob drew a sudden breath and backed away a foot, thereby stepping on Nelson’s toes and eliciting an exclamation of pain that almost resulted in another stampede to the door. It was Tom who stayed the rout.

“Huh!” he cried; “it’s nothing but a calf!”

And so it proved. Grown suddenly brave, they examined more carefully, and Bob began to tease Dan and Nelson for being frightened at the skeleton of a calf.

“That’s all right,” said Nelson, “but I noticed you were looking up the exits a minute ago!”

“Let’s have that fire,” suggested Dan. “Any matches left?”

Tom had a pocket full of them, and in a minute they had found several dried branches on the floor and a box nailed to the wall. They tore down the latter and soon had a fire going. As the heat began to penetrate their chilled bodies their spirits arose.

“I wish it had been a human skeleton,” said Dan regretfully.

“Yes, you do!” responded Bob sarcastically. “Why?”

“So I could have had the skull. My uncle has one for a tobacco jar; it’s swell!”

“I can see you getting the skull!” said Bob laughingly. “Why, you wouldn’t have stopped running before to-morrow morning if we hadn’t stopped you!”

“Get out!” answered Dan good-naturedly. “I’d have come back for it. But I tell you, fellows, that old pile of bones looked mighty unpleasant in the lightning. I’d have sworn the thing moved.”

“It was you that moved,” said Tom, “and you moved fast.”

“Say, what the dickens are we going to do, fellows?” asked Nelson. “We can’t get home in this storm. Just listen to it!”

“Oh, it’ll let up after a bit. What time is it?” asked Bob.

“Ten of four,” answered Tom. “Wish we had something to eat; then we could stay all night. Wouldn’t it be swell?”

“Yes,” said Dan, “but we haven’t, and I, for one, prefer to get wet again rather than go without supper. I’m starved now.”

“Well, let’s wait a bit and see if it doesn’t hold up some. This fire’s immense! Wonder can we find any more wood?”

At that instant there was a blinding flash of lightning, a terrific crash of thunder, and a shock that threw Dan and Tom, who had been standing, off their feet. Simultaneously a portion of the roof of the cabin fell, with a cloud of dust and débris, and one of the timbers crashed into their midst, scattering the fire. For an instant there was silence. Every one of the quartet had been momentarily stunned by the lightning. Then they were on their feet, white-faced and trembling; all save Nelson, who lay stretched on the floor, with the blood flowing from a gash in his head. Here and there a brand from the fire flickered, but a new light flooded the cabin from without, where a giant pine, its trunk lying across the cabin, was burning fiercely. After the first instant of terror Bob ran to Nelson.

“Get some water, somebody!” he called.

“Is he dead?” asked Tom weakly.

“I don’t know; he’s got a beast of a cut here from that log; stunned him, I guess. Where’s the water?”

Dan hurried back with his cap dripping.

“Here’s some,” he panted. “Fetch some more, Tom; hold your cap under the corner of the house. Is he much hurt?”

But Nelson answered the question himself, reaching up to push away the hand that was bathing his face and head, and opening his eyes to blink dazedly about him.

“You lie still a minute,” commanded Bob. “That log fetched you a whack on the head, but you’ll be all right in a minute.”

“Oh,” said Nelson, memory returning, “say, that was a peach of a bump, wasn’t it? Any one struck? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s here. Shut up a minute and lie still.”

“I’m all right.” He felt of his wound, and wiped the blood from his fingers onto his jersey. “If I had a handkerchief----”

“Here’s one,” said Dan. “You tie it on, Bob.”

Bob did so, and Nelson was helped to his feet, where he stood an instant swaying unsteadily.

“Say, we’ll have to get out of this,” said Dan. “The hut’ll be on fire in a minute. Gee, but that was a close shave! That tree wasn’t thirty feet away!”

“We got some of it as it was,” said Bob. “I felt as though some one had hit me with a plank. Can you walk, Nel? Here, we’ll give you a hand. We’ll have to get out at the corner there; the doorway’s blocked up. Where’d Tommy get to?”

“He went for some more water,” said Dan. “Come on; it’s getting hot!”

Outside they came on a strange sight. Tom was sitting on a log, with his face in his hands, sobbing as though his heart was breaking. Beside him lay his cap, and a small rivulet of water from the top of the cabin was spattering down onto his bare head. The three stared in bewilderment. Then Bob patted him on the back:

“Come on, Tommy,” he said kindly. “You’re all right; cheer up!”

But Tom only shook his head without looking up.

“He’s du-du-du-du-dead!” he wailed.

“Who’s dead, you idiot?”

“Nu-nu-nu-Nelson,” sobbed Tommy.

“No, I’m not, Tommy,” called Nelson; “here I am!”

Tom raised a wet and miserable face; then he leaped to his feet, tumbled over a branch, and fell into Nelson’s arms.

“I th-th-th-thought you were a gu-gu-gu-goner!” he cried.

“I’m all right,” answered Nelson, cheerfully submitting to Tom’s hugs. “Get your cap and come along, or we’ll be drowned.”

Tom sniffed a few times, picked up his hat, and sheepishly joined the procession that wound its way up the hill in the rain.

“Poor old Tommy!” chuckled Dan.

“He’s a good-hearted dub,” answered Nelson softly.

Five minutes of toil brought them to the summit, and after that it was easier work. By the time they had reached the road the rain had almost ceased, and for the rest of the way they had only the mud and their chilled bodies to contend with. Twenty minutes later they straggled into camp to find Mr. Clinton in the act of leading a search party after them. Nelson was conducted to the surgery, where Dr. Smith washed and bandaged his head, and the other members of the party hied them to the dormitory and dry clothes, followed by half the fellows of the camp eager to hear the story of their adventures. And when it had been told--losing nothing in the telling by Dan--Bob suddenly exclaimed:

“Well, if he didn’t do it!”

“Do what?” “Who did?” “When?” were the queries fired at him.

“Why, Tommy did! He said, before we started, that he was going to beat the hares home, the cheeky kid! And he did it!”

“But we all came home together,” objected Dan.

“Yes, but if you’ll recollect, it was Tommy who headed the procession coming into camp.”

“So it was,” said Dan.

“So I did,” said Tom. “Ain’t I a smarty?”

Whereupon Dan tumbled him over backward onto the bed and sat on top of him a long, long time, and told him how very, very smart he was. And it was not until Nelson, appearing on the scene with a wealth of surgeon’s plaster adorning his brow, asked innocently, “Who’s going to soak?” that Dan’s attentions ceased; and then it was only because he felt obliged to stand firmly on his feet in order to put the necessary amount of withering sarcasm into his reply to Nelson.