Ten minutes later Davy Jones, who had pushed to the van, gave a shout.
"There's your deserted log cabin!" he remarked, pointing. "Am I correct, Bob?"
"You surely are, suh," replied the Southerner. "And as I fail to see smoke coming from the chimney at the back, it looks to me as though nobody had got ahead of us there. If the roof only holds, we can laugh at the rain, believe me."
When the scouts hurried up to the cabin, for there was now no longer any doubt about the storm being close at hand, since lightning flashed and the grumble of thunder had changed into a booming that grew louder with every peal, they found to their great satisfaction that it seemed in a fair state of preservation, despite the fact that it must have been left to the sport of the elements for many a long year.
"Nothing wrong with this, boys," announced the scoutmaster, as they pushed inside the log house, and looked around. "And if we know half as much as we think we do, there'll be a pile of wood lying here before that rain drops down on us. Just remember that we've got a whole night ahead."
"Hurrah! that's the ticket! Get busy everybody. We don't belong to the Beaver Patrol, but we can work just as well as if we did. Whoop her up, fellers!"
Bumpus was as good as his words. Dropping his haversack and staff in a corner, he pushed out of the door. Although the evening was being ushered in sooner than might have been expected, owing to the swoop of the storm, there was still plenty of light to see where dry wood was to be picked up for the effort. And immediately every one of the eight scouts was working furiously to bring in a good supply.
No doubt the rattle of the thunder caused the boys to hurry things; for by the time the first drops began to fall they had secured as much as they expected to use. And already there was Giraffe on his knees in front of the big fireplace that lay at the foot of the wide-throated chimney, whittling shavings with which to start a cheery blaze.
This had just started into life when the rattle of a horse's hoofs came to the ears of the boys who had clustered at the door to witness the breaking of the summer storm.
"Hey! looks like another pilgrim overtaken by the gale," said Davy Jones, as a man on horseback came riding furiously along the wretched road, heading straight for the old cabin; as though he knew of its presence, and might indeed have found its shelter acceptable on other occasions.