And sometimes either one would give utterance to an excited whoop when the timber was lighted up by an unusually dazzling flash, though the cry was sure to be immediately deadened by the reverberating thunder.
They also noticed with some degree of satisfaction, that they were even then rounding the low rocky elevation. Unless Thad had made a sad mistake in his judgment, they should know the facts before another minute passed.
But so rapidly was the storm coming along now, that apparently they would have none too generous an allowance of time.
With the rush of the wind another sound began to be heard that was quite disconcerting. This was a frequent crash, such as even Giraffe and Step Hen knew must accompany the fall of trees.
They were glad on this account, if for no other, that Thad had led them by degrees out of the big timber, so that they now skirted the base of the singular little rocky elevation that was almost devoid of trees.
The thought of being in constant danger of having one of those giants topple over upon their heads, was far from pleasant.
Between the flashes it had become oppressively dark, so much so that the boys had to be more careful where they set their feet. But with all that turmoil of shrieking winds, crash of falling trees, and roar of thunder, chasing along in their rear, and rapidly overtaking them, it was little wonder that at times they made mistakes in where they stepped.
And presently, what Thad had been fearing came to pass, when Step Hen shouted out at the top of his voice:
“Hold up, Thad, Giraffe’s taken a tumble; and I reckon he’s some hurt!”