“Snow one day and a thunder storm the next,” observed Jerry. “This is a queer country.”
Events soon proved the old hunter was right. The wind began to blow a regular gale and the clouds made the sky almost as dark as night. The auto was going downhill; Jerry was taking it along as easily as he could.
Suddenly the storm burst with a terrific peal of thunder that accompanied a blinding flash of lightning. It seemed to shake the very earth. Then came a regular deluge of rain.
“Run the machine under a tree,” advised Nestor. “We’ll be washed away if we stay in the road.”
“There’s a good place, just ahead!” shouted Broswick. “Under the oak. Leave the auto there and run for the cave!”
“What cave?” cried Jerry.
“There’s one on the left side of the road, a little above the tree,” said Broswick. “I’ve stayed in it often when I was caught in a storm. It’ll hold all of us an’ the horse.”
The machine was halted beneath the oak. Then, after rubber blankets had been spread to keep dry the baggage in the auto, the adventurers raced for the cave, led by Broswick.
They found the cavern to be a dry, roomy one, a natural hole scooped out of the side of the mountain. Once inside, the war of the elements could not harm them. They drew back from the mouth of the cave and listened to the heavy rumble of thunder and watched the brilliant lightning.
It seemed as if the very flood-gates were opened. The wind blew a regular hurricane, and the lightning was incessant.