“Let’s hope nobody puts us out,” said Miss Phillips. “As soon as the storm is over, I’ll go and see if the house to which this belongs is occupied, for it would seem to me to be wiser to stay here all night than to pitch tents on wet ground. And especially on Lily’s and Ruth’s account.”
“Oh, don’t mind us,” said Ruth. “We’ll be all right.”
“Well, suppose you select that stall over there as your boudoir, and put on dry clothing. If your own bloomers and middies are wet, borrow somebody else’s. And a good rub with a Turkish towel wouldn’t hurt.”
The rest of the scouts climbed to the loft, and seated themselves on some straw near a window, so that they might watch the storm. Great claps of thunder followed sharp flashes of lightning, but the girls did not seem the least afraid. Indeed, several of them were sorry when the storm gave indication of subsiding.
“Will it be safe to make a fire outside the barn to cook something?” asked Frieda. “There’s hardly any thing on hand that’s good cold.”
“Yes,” replied the captain; “if we notice which side the wind is blowing from, and make it so the sparks blow away from the barn, and not towards it.”
“Oh, here are some dry twigs and a few logs!” said Marjorie, who had descended the ladder again, and was making a tour of exploration. “Just the thing for a fire.”
“Good!” cried Frieda. “Now I won’t have to demonstrate my ability to make a fire from wet wood!”
The rain had entirely ceased now, and the sun was shining again. Marjorie and Alice offered to make the fire while Frieda prepared the supper. Ruth and Lily spent their time rigging up a place to hang their wet clothing, and Florence and Miss Phillips went in search of water.
The fire had been blazing brightly for several minutes when a gruff, loud voice suddenly startled the girls from their pleasant conversation.