“Ned and I will take the horses!” cried Jerry. “You save what grub you can, Bob!”
This was giving the stout lad an occupation nearest to his heart, but there was no joking in their thoughts at this moment.
“I’ll save our camp stuff!” shouted Tinny, making a jump toward some rolls of bedding and tarpaulins on which they expected to sleep at night, for they carried no tents.
Action was scarcely less quick than the words, and though there was a little trouble in releasing the horses and getting them to a place of comparative safety, it was accomplished.
All this while [the landslide was advancing nearer and nearer], and with increased force and volume. Back of the first line of rocks, bushes, and dirt was a great mass of earth, immense boulders, great trees, and a quantity of gravel and smaller stones. This was sweeping everything before it, breaking off giants of the forest with trunks three feet in diameter as if they were the long stems of churchwarden pipes.
[THE LANDSLIDE WAS ADVANCING NEARER AND NEARER.]
For a few seconds the boys and Mallison were so busy rushing their animals and belongings to the safe side that they did not notice the curious roar and rumble that filled the air.
But when the horses had been tied beyond the line of rocks, which, Tinny thought, would mark the dividing line of the landslide, and when their food and camp stuff had been moved, the travelers had an opportunity to listen to the nerve-racking noise that accompanied the shifting of the face of the mountain.
The rumble and roar made a terrifying sound. It was not like thunder, though it was akin to it. Nor was it like the blast of the tempest, though, in a measure, it filled the air with that awful howling.