Fortunately the last peg had been secured. The flap was laced down quickly. In the semi-darkness of the sudden twilight the girls and Mrs. Havel stood together and listened to the rain drum upon the taut canvas.
How it sounded! Worse than the rain on a tin roof! Peering out through the slit in the middle of the tent-flap they could see nothing but a gray wall of water.
Suddenly there was a glaring blue flash, followed soon by the roar of the thunder. Several of the girls cried out and crouched upon the ground.
“Oh, dear me! this is awful!” groaned Grace again.
Mina Everett was sobbing with the pain in her thumb and her fear of the lightning.
“Now, this will never do, girls,” admonished Wyn Mallory. “Come! we can set up the alcohol lamp and make tea. That will help some. There are crackers and some ham, and a whole big bottle of olives. Why! we sha’n’t starve for supper, that’s sure.”
“I–I don’t know as I want to eat,” quavered Mina.
“Pshaw! We Go-Aheads must not be afraid of a little storm—”
Wyn’s voice was drowned in the clap of thunder which accompanied an awful flash of lightning. With both came a splintering crash, the tent seemed to rock, and for a moment its interior was vividly illuminated by the electric bolt. The lightning had struck near at hand.