In the midst of such a confusion of dreadful sounds, and knowing that in another minute or so they would be overtaken by the storm, it was little wonder that Thad’s heart seemed to feel a cold clutch when Step Hen burst out with that announcement.
What if Giraffe had broken a leg in taking this tumble? He was that tall, and possessed such “spindle legs,” as the boys always called them, that they often joked him on the probability of his cracking a bone when he slid to second base.
And it was in dreadful fear, then, that the scoutmaster halted, to turn hastily around.
To his satisfaction he saw that Giraffe, helped by Step Hen, was already scrambling to his feet, although limping some.
“All right, Giraffe?” called out Thad.
“On deck; go ahead!” came the cheery reply.
And shutting his teeth hard together, Giraffe managed to once more start on a run after his chief, though his bruised leg must have hurt him considerably.
They were now turning the side of the rocky elevation. And just as Thad had said, it seemed to be made up of little ledges, one above the other. This was not a mere guess on Thad’s part, for he had noticed the same peculiar formation in connection with several other outcroppings they had passed, these being off-shoots of the foothills at the base of the Rocky Mountains.
And so, again did that policy of observation, “noticing things” promise to prove of great assistance to the fugitive scouts when chased by the storm. It often does, and the boy who keeps his eyes about him under any and all circumstances, is the one who reaps the profit. There is never an emergency arises but he is ready with some remedy to meet it.
When they saw these friendly ledges the other boys realized that for the time being their troubles were about at an end.