There was nothing to do but wait for the passing of nature’s outburst, and with what good spirits they could summon the party prepared to remain in the cave until morning.
They had their blankets, there was food enough, plenty of coffee, and, best of all, they were within a secure shelter. At first they felt a little awed at being in a cave where, perhaps, never the foot of a white man had been set before. But this feeling soon wore off and, tired with their day’s journey, all soon fell into a deep sleep.
There was little use to mount guard. No one was likely to disturb them, for if travelers were abroad on the trail in all the storm, it was hardly possible that they would come to the cave, which had only been opened in the last day or so.
None of the party had any one to fear but Noddy Nixon and his two cronies, and Jerry and his companions took it for granted that the bully was far enough off by this time.
When the storm ceased, none in the cave knew. But it was over by morning, and when Jerry, the first to awake, looked toward the cave entrance he saw the golden yellow sunlight flashing on the opposite slope.
“Good news, fellows!” he cried, leaping up and tossing aside his blankets. “We’ve got a fair day ahead of us.”
One after another they awakened, stretched, and sat up.
“Wow, but I’m stiff!” groaned Ned. “I feel like Rip Van Winkle must have felt after his twenty years on the mountain.”
“I’ve got a touch of rheumatics myself,” complained Cromley.
“You’ll be all right when you have some hot coffee,” said Bob.