“Did you ever know Thad to think up one that wasn’t the best going?” demanded Smithy; who was really the latest recruit in the patrol, though he had learned a great many things since joining, and long ago ceased to merit the opprobrious title of “greenhorn” or “tenderfoot.”
“Listen! I think I hear the rain!” called out Thad, more to break in upon this flattering line of talk than because it was necessary to draw attention to the pattering of the drops upon the canvas covers.
“That’s right; and I tell you we didn’t get fixed any too soon, fellows!” Bumpus exclaimed, as he snuggled down in comfort, holding on to his share of the tent as though half expecting, despite the reassuring words of Thad, to presently feel the same violently torn from his clutch by the gale unless he fastened to it with the tenacity of a bull terrier.
Inside of three minutes the rain was coming down heavily, while the thunder proceeded to crash with all the vim of a real summer storm up home.
“One good thing,” declared Giraffe, between outbursts, and when the rain seemed to let up a little, “we don’t have to depend on the walking any; and after it’s all over we can go right ahead as well as ever.”
“Mebbe it’ll raise the swamp level some,” advanced Step Hen, “and we won’t be apt to run on the mud banks, like we did more’n a few times.”
“Getting lighter all the while, boys; and I guess she’ll soon quit!” Giraffe went on to remark; and they all agreed with him.
“Did anybody get wet?” asked Allan, when it seemed as though the storm had passed over, and was rumbling away in the dim distance, having gone to the northeast.
“Nary a drop!” Bumpus triumphantly declared.
“Huh! there might be fellows mean enough to wish somebody had gone and got soaked through and through; for then he’d have to bring out his new suit, and wear the same,” Davy growled.