CHAPTER XIII.

THE BOLT OF LIGHTNING.

In the midst of such a confusion of dreadful sounds, and knowing that in another minute or so they would be overtaken by the storm, it was little wonder that Thad's heart seemed to feel a cold clutch when Step Hen burst out with that announcement.

What if Giraffe had broken a leg in taking this tumble? He was that tall, and possessed such "spindle legs," as the boys always called them, that they often joked him on the probability of his cracking a bone when he slid to second base.

And it was in dreadful fear, then, that the scoutmaster halted, to turn hastily around.

To his satisfaction he saw that Giraffe, helped by Step Hen, was already scrambling to his feet, although limping some.

"All right, Giraffe?" called out Thad.

"On deck; go ahead!" came the cheery reply.

And shutting his teeth hard together, Giraffe managed to once more start on a run after his chief, though his bruised leg must have hurt him considerably.

They were now turning the side of the rocky elevation. And just as Thad had said, it seemed to be made up of little ledges, one above the other. This was not a mere guess on Thad's part, for he had noticed the same peculiar formation in connection with several other outcroppings they had passed, these being off-shoots of the foothills at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

And so, again did that policy of observation, "noticing things" promise to prove of great assistance to the fugitive scouts when chased by the storm. It often does, and the boy who keeps his eyes about him under any and all circumstances, is the one who reaps the profit. There is never an emergency arises but he is ready with some remedy to meet it.

When they saw these friendly ledges the other boys realized that for the time being their troubles were about at an end.

There would be plenty of chances for them to find shelter here. Thad did not accept of the very first refuge that offered, because he knew there was still a little more time at their disposal, and he had an idea they would presently come upon a ledge capable of covering them all.

It turned out just as he figured.

When the four crept under the outcropping shelf of rock, they found that they had no longer any need to fear the violence of the gale.

The lightning could not well reach them here, the wind was powerless to do them any harm; there were no threatening trees to topple over upon their heads; and as for the rain, it would sweep past, and leave them perfectly dry.

No wonder then, that Step Hen, in the sudden change of his feelings from dark despair to complete satisfaction, gave vent to a scout whoop; while Giraffe, equally pleased, uttered several fox barks, that being the distinguishing signal of the patrol, by which members would recognize each other if approaching in the dark.

"This is something like!" cried Step Hen, in between the thunder claps.

"As comfy as if we were at home," added Giraffe, who was sitting there, gingerly rubbing his bruised shin.

A tremendous crash made further talk just then out of the question. And it seemed as though that thunder clap might have been the signal that the stage was all set, and the war of the elements could begin.

The wind started in with a furious rush that snapped off several trees not far away from where the four scouts huddled under their shelter. These came crashing down, as though loudly protesting against their untimely fate. But the sound of their fall was really swallowed up in all the other mad noises that marked the first rush of the summer storm.

How the wind did whistle through the tops of the trees, that bent before its fury, together with the downpour of rain. The ones that could prove most humble, and bow their proud heads, best, were those that came out of the turmoil with the least damage. The trees could adapt themselves to circumstances, the scouts saw; and surely there was another lesson for them all in that.

After a furious rush, the storm slackened up a little, as though gathering force for a fresh outburst, perhaps more strenuous than before.

But this little breathing spell afforded the boys a chance to exchange a few remarks, since it is at all times a difficult task to keep their tongues from wagging.

"That was a swift one, all right!" Giraffe burst out with.

"Did you ever hear such thunder?" said Allan.

"And the lightning--oh! my stars! it just made me blink, and shiver every time it flashed," declared Step Hen.

"Well, the worst is yet to come!" announced Thad, seriously.

"He's joking," cried out Step Hen.

"No, I'm not," the scoutmaster went on. "I've always noticed that when a storm lets up like this, it generally hits harder the next spell. And you'll find out, if you wait a minute, for it's coming again."

"But we're all right here, ain't we?" asked Giraffe.

"Sure," replied the other, "unless it turns around."

"Turns around!" ejaculated Step Hen. "D'ye mean to say that old wind could take a kink in itself, and come back on us?"

"It often happens during a storm. In the beginning it may beat down on you from the east, and finish up in the southwest. But I guess the second half of this one is coming out of the same quarter as the first."

"Good for that!" exclaimed Step Hen. "We're all so cozy under here, I'd hate to have the wind drive that wet rain in on us. There she comes, boys. Whew! say, listen to that, would you? I hope that thunder don't start the rocks to rolling down this slope."

"No danger of that," called out Thad, for with the return of the furious bombardment talking was becoming more difficult.

Just as the scout leader had said it, it really did look as though this second half of the storm promised to be more violent than the one that had gone booming along its way. It seemed to the boys that some of the thunder claps would split their ear drums, so powerful did they appear.

The rain again fell in torrents, too. They could hear it rushing furiously down the side of the little rocky hill. Several spouts shot over the outcropping ledge that served as their roof; but despite it all, none of them so much as had a sprinkle fall upon him.

Never had the wisdom and sagacity of the scoutmaster been more amply proven than right then. And doubtless each of the other three boys must have been secretly saying as much, as they crouched there, gazing in speechless wonder and awe at the curious freaks shown by the zigzag forked lightning, every time it came down from the black vault above, or played tag among the piled up masses of clouds that were slowly retreating.

Apparently the worst was over.

Even then doubtless there was a break in the van of the storm clouds. Furious though the tempest had been, it was to prove of short duration. But while it lasted Thad reckoned that it was about as tropical in its nature as any he had ever encountered.

"Glad it's going!" called out Giraffe.

"It never will be missed," sang Step Hen, feeling particularly joyous over the fact that after all they had come through it all unscathed.

"The rain's stopped, that's sure," Giraffe asserted.

"And that means the danger's over. We can go out now, when we please," Step Hen remarked, making a movement as if to rise.

"Hold on, I wouldn't do that yet," exclaimed Thad.

"Why not?" asked Step Hen, but at the same time falling back.

"There's a lot of dangerous electricity in the air still," said Thad. "You can see that the reports after each flash are as quick and powerful as if a twelve-inch gun on a battleship were being fired. Every bolt strikes just after a storm has passed. Lots of people say the back action is the most dangerous time of all."

"Oh! all right, Thad. Guess I'll stay awhile longer. No need of a feller takin' more chances than he has to," and Step Hen settled down again; for if there was any danger of being struck by lightning, no one would find him careless.

"But this is the end, ain't it, Thad?" asked Giraffe, still rubbing at his leg.

"I reckon it is," replied the patrol leader.

"Wonder how our fellers in camp stood the racket. Hope the tents didn't get blown away," Step Hen remarked.

"And Bumpus, I reckon he'll be put to his wit's ends to know what to do at such a time as this," but Thad noticed that when he said it, Giraffe really betrayed an undercurrent of respect in his manner.

Bumpus was no longer a complete ignoramus; Bumpus had raised himself wonderfully in the estimation of his chums.

Just then there was an unusually brilliant flash. The thunder seemed to really accompany it, showing that the bolt struck near at hand.

"Wow! that hit something, as sure as you live!" exclaimed Giraffe.

"Thought I heard branches crashing down, and I reckon it must have been a tree," remarked Step Hen, who had given a nervous jump at the brilliant and dazzling illumination.

"It _did_ shatter a tree, and over in the very place we came from, too. To tell you the truth, fellows, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if it was that same big tree that had so splendid a hollow in its butt."

Step Hen turned very white when he heard Thad say this, and a painful silence fell upon the little group of scouts under the friendly ledge.