"Have you struck a place for us to crawl in, Larry? Oh! I hope so, I'm sure! Why, it's a hollow log, and with a hole plenty big enough to let a fellow creep inside!"
"That's right," called the other, cheerfully. "And now suppose you get down on your knees, and push in, feet first. Then if you should get stuck, you could crawl out again, see?"
"But looky here, Larry," cried Jasper suddenly and suspiciously. "It's such an awfully short log, I don't believe both of us can ever get in it."
"No more we can, Jasper, and all the more reason for you to crawl in right away now," and Larry began to urge his comrade to flatten himself out on the ground, with both feet in touch with the hollow log.
"But how about you, Larry?" expostulated Jasper.
"Shucks! didn't I tell you I wasn't made of sugar or salt? Rain won't ever hurt Larry Billings. Get a move on you now, and squeeze in. That wet old rain is mighty near here now. I thought I felt a drop right then. Crawl, you slow tortoise! Here, let me give you a shove along."
Jasper turned a white face upward.
"You ain't going to run away, and leave me here, are you, Larry?" he asked.
"What! me?" shouted the other, indignantly. "What d'ye take me for, Jasper? A true scout would never act that way to a chum. Not much. I'm just goin' to snuggle down alongside the log here, and wait till the storm blows itself out. Get a good grip on yourself now, and nothing ain't goin' to hurt you. Give you my word on it, Jasper," and he again started to energetically push the smaller lad into the gaping hole that had offered such an asylum in time of need.
"And the lightning won't strike this log, either, will it?" the boy who was accepting the wooden jacket asked.