Standing there, gripping their hats as the fierce wind continued to sweep past, the scouts exchanged serious looks. The fall of that tree had given them a feeling of thankfulness that they were not under it at the time.
“Oh! how that would have squashed us!” exclaimed Bumpus, when he could catch his breath.
“Do you know,” ventured Smithy, “I had my eye on that big chap, and was wondering whether he’d hold up against the next squall. So you see I wasn’t so silly, after all, when I mentioned such a thing.”
“Nobody said you were, Smithy,” admitted Giraffe; “but, Thad, how’d it do to stop near where that tree crashed down?”
“Why do you pick out that place in particular?” queried Step Hen.
“Oh! first of all they say lightning never strikes twice in the same place, and so there’d be no danger of another tree dropping on us. Then, again, don’t you understand what a lot of chopping it’ll save us, having all that good wood ready.”
“Guess you’re right about that, Giraffe,” returned Step Hen; “for it made an awful crash when it hit the ground, and must have busted in many parts. It certainly takes you to think up all kinds of kinks connected with fires and fuel supplies.”
“Well, somebody’s got to do the thinking for the crowd, you know,” returned the other, assuming an air of importance; “and when others shirk their duty it comes harder for us faithful members.”
The patrol leader thought so much of Giraffe’s sensible suggestion that he gave the word for a halt; and so they selected a place that looked as though it would make a pretty decent camp.
Here their burdens were only too willingly dropped.