“Yes, it’s holding off in a queer way,” replied the other, “but when it does hit us, look out for a downpour. I’d be glad if we ran on that Wandering George before the rain starts in, because it’ll be hard getting around when the whole country is soaked and afloat.”
“I’m told the river is already close to flood stage, owing to so much snow melting at headwaters,” observed Allan.
“Yes, we had an unusual lot last winter, you remember; and when the weather turned actually hot a few days back it must have started the snow melting at a furious rate. If we get a hard rain now there’ll be a whopping big flood all along the Susquehanna this spring.”
“Everything seems all right around here, doesn’t it?” asked Allan, as he bent down over Giraffe’s fireplace, with the caution of a hunter who knew how necessary it always is to see that no glowing embers have been forgotten that a sudden wind could carry off to cause a disastrous conflagration.
“I saw Giraffe throw some water over the coals,” remarked Thad. “He loves a fire better than anyone I know, but you never find him neglecting to take the proper precautions. Yes, it’s cold to the touch. Let’s hunt a place to bunk for the night, Allan. With our blankets, a bed in the soft hay ought to feel just prime.”
Nine of them burrowed into the big haymow, with all sorts of merry remarks, and a flow of boyish badinage. Finally they began to get settled in their various nooks and the talking died down until in the end no one said a single word, and already Bumpus and perhaps several others began to breathe heavily, thus betraying the fact that they had passed over the border of dreamland.
Thad of course had more to think about than most of his mates, because, as the patrol leader, and head of the present expedition, he found problems to study out that did not present themselves to such happy-go-lucky fellows as Bumpus, Step Hen, Davy, and perhaps Giraffe. So Thad lay there for quite some time, thinking, and trying to lay out some plan of campaign to be followed in case the expected rain did strike them before they came up with the fugitive tramp.
It was very comfortable, and the hay was sweet-smelling, so that even the fastidious Smithy had not been heard to utter the least complaint, but had burrowed with the rest. Possibly he may have swathed his face, as well as his body, in the folds of his blanket, in order to prevent any roving spider from carrying out the gypsy’s evil prophecy; but if so no one knew it, since all of them but Allan and Thad had made separate burrows.
The young scout master remembered that his thoughts became confused, and then he lost his grip on things.
It seemed to him that his dreams must be wonderfully vivid, for as he suddenly struggled up to a sitting position he could fancy that he heard some one calling at the top of his voice. Then shrill screams in girlish tones added to the clamor.