“More smoke coming this way,” announced Greson.
“No, it’s clouds!”
“Clouds! yes, and—hark!”
They listened intently. A low rumble was heard.
“A thunderstorm! If it only rains hard enough!”
The sky kept growing blacker and blacker. Then came a flash of lightning through the smoke, and the patter of rain.
As the rain came down the smoke grew thicker, and soon it drifted into the cave, and they were all but driven out.
“We can’t stand this! Let us get out!” said Greson.
“No, no; wait awhile, Larry! See, the wind is changing!”
The young gymnast was right. The wind swerved around and at once the smoke left them.