CHAPTER XII.

THE SWOOP OF THE STORM.

"Whoo! she's coming right along, all right."

Step Hen volunteered this statement, when the first rumble of thunder was borne to their ears from the direction whence the storm was advancing.

"Hear that," added Giraffe, and then he went on: "I say, Thad, don't you think we'd better let up on this trail business, and hunt for a place where we might sit out the storm?"

"I'd just come to that conclusion myself," replied the other.

"And seems to me we hadn't ought to lose any too much valuable time in doing that," remarked Step Hen, starting a little when there came a flash of lightning, and later on another deep growl of thunder.

"Still three miles away; I counted between the flash and the thunder," announced Giraffe.

"Huh! three miles ain't a song when the old wind gets to blowing," declared Step Hen. "Notice that it's died out altogether now, fellers?"

"And getting pretty dark, too," Giraffe added. "Looks to me like we might be in for a little cyclone. Wonder if they ever have 'em up here, like they do in Kansas."

"Cyclone!" exclaimed Step Hen, "oh! my stars! and here we are without even a cyclone cellar."

"We'll try and find one," said Thad, encouragingly, for he had been keeping his eyes around him a long time back, noting the formation of the ground, and drawing his own conclusions.

They were no longer walking steadily on. Thad had increased his pace to a run, and his comrades kept at his side, as though determined not to be left in the lurch.

The sounds from the rear had gradually increased in volume. The thunder was louder, and more ominous, as each dazzling flash of lightning made the timber around them stand out most distinctly; although after it had passed, the semi-gloom seemed more appalling than ever.

And that other threatening sound, could it be the wind playing havoc with the tall trees? Thad had from time to time noticed that they came upon a windrow of fallen timber, all the trees lying in one direction. This circumstance had told him once that in a great while the region at the foot of the Rockies was visited by a destructive storm.

Might not this one prove to be such, and throw down more of these giants of the woods?

Thad had to bear this in mind, along with many other things. Surely, if the storm proved to be so severe that trees were going to be uprooted and blown down, they wanted to be out of danger.

Step Hen was getting more and more excited.

He always felt this way, even at home, when the air was charged with electricity. Many a time he could remember walking up and down a room, like a tiger in its cage, while the elements were holding high carnival without.

And while he believed that the scoutmaster would do all that lay in his power to get himself and comrades into some sort of shelter before the threatening storm broke over their heads, Step Hen saw no reason why he should not assist, as far as he could.

So he kept those sharp eyes of his on the constant watch, as he ran along at the side of the pace-maker.

Suddenly Step Hen gave a triumphant shout.

"Oh! look! look! here's a good place for us to crawl in," and he pointed to one side as he spoke.

There, as another bright flash lighted up the gloomy forest, Thad saw an enormous tree, easily the king of them all. Doubtless it out topped all its comrades, rearing its lofty head far above the best of them.

And yet old age had started in to demolish the monarch of the woods, beginning at the butt instead of the top. The giant tree was hollow. There yawned an aperture, surely large enough to hold the four scouts easily, if they chose to huddle together.

"And the hole is pretty well away from the track of the storm, so the rain ain't agoin' to beat in on us," Step Hen went on.

"Do we crawl in, Thad?" asked Giraffe, showing by his manner that he was only too willing to comply, if the scoutmaster said the word.

But Thad and Allan exchanged a look, and each shook his head.

"No tree for mine in a storm like this, come on boys;" called out the patrol leader, once more starting on a run.

Step Hen hesitated. It even seemed as though the spirit of finding safety was tempting him to hold back. If he thought Giraffe would back him up, Step Hen might possibly have declined to leave the big hollow tree that looked so inviting to him.

But Giraffe, either more submissive to authority just then, or else not quite so frightened by the crash of the approaching storm, was already hurrying after the leader.

And so Step Hen went on, although grumblingly.

"Why couldn't we use that nice, old hiding-place, Thad?" he called out; for the thunder, together with the roar of the wind, and the rain, in their rear, made so much racket, that talking in ordinary tones was impossible.

"That tree might go down with a crash in the gale," was what Thad said over his shoulder, as he ran.

"Well, p'raps that's so," admitted Step Hen.

"And worse than that, it was liable to be struck by lightning," added the young scoutmaster. "Nearly always picks out the tallest tree, or one standing alone. You never want to get under a tree in a thunderstorm, remember that, Step Hen. Better lie down flat on the ground, and take your soaking."

And even though the advice was shouted at him under such peculiar conditions, Step Hen was apt to remember it. Indeed, those very conditions served to impress it indelibly on his mind. He would never again hear the crash of thunder, and see the vivid flash of lightning without remembering what Thad had said.

And every boy should do the same; for what does a wetting amount to, beside the peril of sudden death? Every day during the summer there can be found brief accounts of men or boys killed by lightning, because they took refuge under a tree, when a storm interrupted their work in the harvest field.

During an ordinary shower a tree may be an acceptable shelter, but never when the air is sur-charged with electricity; since it serves as a conductor to draw the lightning.

"But what are we agoin' to do?"

It was Giraffe who broke out with this appeal, shortly after they left the neighborhood of the hollow tree that had so tempted Step Hen.

Up to this point the tall scout had been blindly following Thad's lead. The quality of obedience was plainly well developed in Giraffe. But now his curiosity seemed to get the better of these other traits in his character. Although he did not come from Missouri, and in fact had never seen the sacred soil of that grand state, still Giraffe "wanted to know."

Nor did Thad seem to take it amiss in a comrade asking such a natural question, under the circumstances.

He was always willing to volunteer information.

"Got an idea we ought to find some ledges on the other side of this little rocky knob hill on the left," he called out.

"Oh," said Step Hen.

That was the extent of his remarks, and for several reasons. In the first place he had considerable confidence in Thad's sagacity, for he had seen it successfully tried under many conditions; and what the other suggested appealed to Step Hen as reasonable. Then again, he was short of breath, and needed all he possessed in order to keep running along with the others.

Step Hen and Giraffe kept pretty well up in the van. Now and then, when a particularly fearful flash came they would turn part way around, as if the fascination of that on-coming tempest were too much for them.

And sometimes either one would give utterance to an excited whoop when the timber was lighted up by an unusually dazzling flash, though the cry was sure to be immediately deadened by the reverberating thunder.

They also noticed with some degree of satisfaction, that they were even then rounding the low rocky elevation. Unless Thad had made a sad mistake in his judgment, they should know the facts before another minute passed.

But so rapidly was the storm coming along now, that apparently they would have none too generous an allowance of time.

With the rush of the wind another sound began to be heard that was quite disconcerting. This was a frequent crash, such as even Giraffe and Step Hen knew must accompany the fall of trees.

They were glad on this account, if for no other, that Thad had led them by degrees out of the big timber, so that they now skirted the base of the singular little rocky elevation that was almost devoid of trees.

The thought of being in constant danger of having one of those giants topple over upon their heads, was far from pleasant.

Between the flashes it had become oppressively dark, so much so that the boys had to be more careful where they set their feet. But with all that turmoil of shrieking winds, crash of falling trees, and roar of thunder, chasing along in their rear, and rapidly overtaking them, it was little wonder that at times they made mistakes in where they stepped.

And presently, what Thad had been fearing came to pass, when Step Hen shouted out at the top of his voice:

"Hold up, Thad, Giraffe's taken a tumble; and I reckon he's some hurt!"