The sight nearly made Oliver faint. The air was charged with a peculiar odor,—probably sulphur,—and the boy gasped for breath.
“Struck by lightning!” he muttered. “Thank Heaven I was not nearer!” It took him several moments to recover sufficiently to proceed on his way. Then he stumbled on and on, falling half a dozen times. And all the while the rain came down in sheets, until he thought a perfect deluge had overtaken him.
“I wonder where the others are?” he muttered. “No use to call; my voice couldn’t be heard a dozen steps away in this wind.”
Ten minutes passed. He had progressed probably the eighth of a mile. The stones of the road cut into his soaked boots, and made his feet pain as they never had before. He was all out of breath, and sat down under an overhanging rock.
“If this is life in the mountains I want none of it,” was his thought. “If a rock should roll down upon me I would be crushed into a jelly.”
He wished earnestly that he was once more with the others. What if he should miss them by the way? The thought made him shiver.
“I wouldn’t be alone out here for a million dollars!” he cried aloud, and his voice sounded strange to himself. “I must hurry and catch up by some means.”
As he concluded, a peculiar noise ahead made him start. What was it? Some wild animal?
He sincerely hoped not. His weapons were all upon the mule’s back, and if attacked he would be next to defenseless.