“It looks to me as if the storm was passing away,” continued the senator’s son, gazing up at the sky.
“Oh, more than likely it will stop raining as soon as we get back, Roger. It would be just our luck.”
It was true that the storm was passing, and they were still some distance from the construction camp when the rain practically ceased. A portion of the clouds rolled away, making the sky much clearer.
“I’ll bet the sun comes out as brightly as ever before it sets,” ventured Roger. “Hang it all! why couldn’t we have found some shelter during this awful downpour? Then we wouldn’t have got wet to the skin.”
“Never mind, Roger. There is no use in crying over spilt milk. Don’t forget how thankful we are that we got our horses back.”
The chums were still out of sight of the construction camp when they heard a clatter of hoofs on the stony roadway ahead of them. In a minute more a figure, clad in a semi-cowboy outfit, came galloping toward them.
“Hello! who can that be?” cried Roger.
“Maybe it’s one of our men coming out to look for us,” answered Dave. “Perhaps Mr. Obray or Frank Andrews got worried when it began to blow so and lighten so hard.”
The two young civil engineers slackened their pace, expecting that the newcomer would halt as soon as he saw them. They drew up to one side of the road, and were somewhat surprised to see the person on horseback go by without paying any attention to them. He was a fellow about their own age and had his head bent down over his horse’s neck as if he was in deep thought.
Both of the young civil engineers stared at the rider as if he were a ghost. Neither of them said a word, but they both looked after the passer-by as if they could not believe the evidence of their senses.