THE GREAT STORM
"Oh! Listen to that, will you!" came a loud voice from a nearby tent, as one of the other sleepers, aroused by the racket, started up in wild alarm.
Shrill cries arose in every quarter. Not a single scout now but who was wide-awake, and endeavoring to pull on his clothes in haste. That former experience had at least taught them a lesson; and much confusion was avoided at the start.
Already were the tents wabbling furiously. Some of the more timid boys kept calling the name of Mr. Gordon, just as if the scoutmaster, however willing, could be of any avail against the aroused forces of Nature.
"Wow! look at that, will you!" shouted Nuthin, as the tent under which he and his three companions cowered, threatened to sail away before the increasing gale.
The storm was no ordinary one. Paul knew something of the signs, and even his stout heart quailed a bit as he heard the terrible sound of
trees crashing to the earth somewhere near by. Perhaps this was to be a duplicate of the hurricane that had toppled over so many of the big forest monarchs years before!
Already were the boys outside, hanging on to the tents for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were being slowly but surely drenched.
"We can't seem to beat it out!" gasped William, almost out of breath with his tremendous exertions.
"She's going to carry off, fellows!" shrieked another scout.
"Don't anybody let go yet!" commanded Paul; equal to the occasion.
He darted into the wildly agitated tent, and with all his strength tore the central pole from its hold. The tent instantly collapsed, amid the howls of the upset boys, who really thought it was tearing away from their grasp.
"Now pile some rocks on top!" ordered Paul, as he crept out from under.
They seemed to grasp his idea, and immediately set about carrying it out. In this way the wind could not get at the tent; and the consequence was, that later on it would be found safely held under the press.
Paul darted to the next tent, where another lot of scared boys were holding on for dear life; while the thundering of the storm beat in their
ears, and almost demoralized the entire troop.
It was his intention to assist them in the same way he had his immediate chums; but just as he reached the spot there arose a combined shout.
"Look out! there she goes!"
With a ripping sound the tent was torn from the grasp of the four scouts, and went sailing off into the pitchy darkness. Paul could only hope that it might become fast in some friendly tree, and be found again when daylight arrived.
Not satisfied with stopping there he darted to the next bunch who were apparently still able to hold to their canvas. They did not know what he meant to do, and when the tent suddenly collapsed loud were their cries of distress. But Paul was quickly among them, shouting orders in their ears similar to those he had given in the other case.
So he kept on. A third and a fourth tent he treated in the same way, and by now many of the scouts began themselves to grapple with the solution of the problem, so that he was able to call upon these for assistance.
When he made for the big round top that covered the provisions Paul was agreeably surprised to find that it was already down, and snugly gripped by half a dozen heavy stones, at the corners and elsewhere.
From this he knew that Mr. Gordon, who had
spoken to him about this relief measure in case of sore necessity, must have been there.
All these things took place in really less time than it requires to tell them. Perhaps it seemed hours to some of the alarmed boys; but only a few minutes had actually passed between the arousing of the camp, and the final scene where the last tent was thrown down and secured.
So far as Paul knew only two had blown away. Considering the fearful violence of the wind that howled along the plateau, crossing the lake, and throwing the water high in the air, this was doing very well indeed.
And what a sight the camp presented when that moment arrived! Paul could hardly keep from laughing at the picture that he saw when the lightning flashed; even though his heart was still beating like a trip-hammer with excitement.
It certainly looked as though a cyclone had struck Camp Surprise. Ruin and desolation surrounded them on all sides. Trees had been blown down in many instances, and everywhere were signs of a tempest such as none of these lads had even known in all their lives.
Paul managed to find the scoutmaster after a bit.
"Looks like a bad job, sir!" he shouted in Mr. Gordon's ear.
"It certainly does, Paul," came the reply, also
in a loud tone; "but bad as this seems I'm afraid from the signs that we'll get even worse before morning!"
"What ought we do then?" asked Paul, his anxiety aroused once more by these words.
"We ought to get out of this as soon as we can. Those trees up there look as if they might fall down on us any time," replied Mr. Gordon quickly.
"But where can we go, sir," cried Paul. "I've heard lots of trees go over, down the side of the mountain. Besides, there's no shelter there for us."
"We will have to make our way along the side of the mountain up here," answered Mr. Gordon, "and trust to luck to run across one of those caves you were speaking about. Shelter we must find as soon as possible. It would be hard on some of the boys to remain exposed to this wind and pouring rain all the night."
"Shall I try to get them together, sir?" asked the patrol leader.
"Yes, round them up near the mess tent, Paul."
They separated, and began to grope around, for it was fearfully dark, save when a flash of lightning came to show the terrors surrounding them. Paul, as soon as he came upon a cowering figure, shouted the directions of the scoutmaster in his ear, and then went on.
He was himself more awed than he would care to admit by the nature of this awful storm. Nothing in all his limited experience had ever approached it in violence.
"Oh! that lucky Slavin crowd, to get home before this came along!" shouted envious William, when Paul came upon him trying to crawl under a rock that offered a little shelter from the fury of the blast.
When he could find no more boys to summon, Paul himself made his way toward the fallen mess tent. Here he found about a score of excited boys clustered, trying to bolster up each others' spirits by making out that they were not a bit afraid.
"Are all here?" Mr. Gordon first of all demanded, in such a way that every fellow was able to hear what he said.
Paul started to count, pulling each scout behind him. A flash from above was of considerable assistance to him in carrying out his plan.
"Not one missing but Nuthin, sir!" he announced, presently.
"Who saw him last?" demanded Mr. Gordon.
"I did, sir," replied one of the scouts, promptly; "he was hangin' on to our tent when it blew away into the air!"
"Oh! then he must have been carried up into the tree, for the tent stuck there," announced another voice, with a thrill of horror in it.
"Come and show me which tree; Paul, I may want your help. The rest of you stay right here, and don't move under any circumstances," and so saying Mr. Gordon caught the boy who "knew" by the shoulder, and dragged him along.
Paul staggered after them. The wind was very strong, and it was impossible to walk in places without bending down almost to the earth. Besides, there seemed to be many branches torn from the trees flying through the air, so that it was perilous to life and limb to be abroad.
But the scoutmaster was one who could command, and he forced the tentmate of the missing Nuthin to find the spot where the canvas had stood at the time it was torn out of their hands.
"That's the tree, sir!" cried the boy, trying to point in the darkness.
"I can see something white up in the branches, sir; it must be the tent!" Paul himself shouted just then.
They made their way forward, and the lightning, happening just then to dart in zigzag lines across the inky heavens as if to assist them, they saw that sure enough the missing tent was caught in the tree, about fifteen feet from the ground.
"Can you see anything of him, Paul?" called Mr. Gordon, as the three of them cowered under the tree, that was bending and groaning before the blast.
"I didn't that time, sir; but wait for another flash; perhaps we'll have better luck," replied the patrol leader, eagerly.
It was a long time coming. Paul could feel the other scout shivering furiously as his hand touched him, probably more through fright than excessive cold; though the experience of being soaked to the skin was far from comforting.
Then came a dazzling flood of electric light that almost blinded them.
"There he is, sir, hanging onto the tent! I think he must be twisted up in one of the ropes. Shall I go up and find out?" called Paul.
"I think you'll have to, my boy," answered the scoutmaster; and if ever he felt pride in one of his troop it must have been then, when Paul, forgetting what chances there were of that tree falling, offered to climb into the branches, in order to rescue a comrade in peril.
Without losing a second the patrol leader sought the lowest limb, and drew himself up. He could feel the trunk of the bending tree straining as it was twisted by the violence of each terrible blast; but undaunted by this impending calamity Paul's only desire was to reach the side of poor Nuthin before worse things happened to him than being carried away with the balloon-like tent.