“Turns around!” ejaculated Step Hen. “D’ye mean to say that old wind could take a kink in itself, and come back on us?”
“It often happens during a storm. In the beginning it may beat down on you from the east, and finish up in the southwest. But I guess the second half of this one is coming out of the same quarter as the first.”
“Good for that!” exclaimed Step Hen. “We’re all so cozy under here, I’d hate to have the wind drive that wet rain in on us. There she comes, boys. Whew! say, listen to that, would you? I hope that thunder don’t start the rocks to rolling down this slope.”
“No danger of that,” called out Thad, for with the return of the furious bombardment talking was becoming more difficult.
Just as the scout leader had said it, it really did look as though this second half of the storm promised to be more violent than the one that had gone booming along its way. It seemed to the boys that some of the thunder claps would split their ear drums, so powerful did they appear.
The rain again fell in torrents, too. They could hear it rushing furiously down the side of the little rocky hill. Several spouts shot over the outcropping ledge that served as their roof; but despite it all, none of them so much as had a sprinkle fall upon him.
Never had the wisdom and sagacity of the scoutmaster been more amply proven than right then. And doubtless each of the other three boys must have been secretly saying as much, as they crouched there, gazing in speechless wonder and awe at the curious freaks shown by the zigzag forked lightning, every time it came down from the black vault above, or played tag among the piled up masses of clouds that were slowly retreating.
Apparently the worst was over.
Even then doubtless there was a break in the van of the storm clouds. Furious though the tempest had been, it was to prove of short duration. But while it lasted Thad reckoned that it was about as tropical in its nature as any he had ever encountered.
“Glad it’s going!” called out Giraffe.