The sun had been shining brightly, but presently the sky became overcast.
"Unless I am mistaken we are close to a storm," observed Noel, as he surveyed the heavens anxiously.
"Thet's wot," came from Watson. "An' I allow as how it will be a putty heavy one when it comes."
"We've had storms enough lately," said Allen. "I want no more of them."
They continued on their way as rapidly as the nature of the ground to be covered permitted. Occasionally Slavin grumbled at being pushed on so fast but Watson soon put a stop to his mutterings.
"No ust ter grumble, Slavin," he said. "Ye kin be thankful thet ye wasn't shot down like a dog."
"But I'm not feelin' well," pleaded the evil doer.
"Ain't ye? Wall, what ye want is exercise," was Watson's sarcastic rejoinder. "So trot along, an' no more parley about it," and Slavin went along, but with a face that looked far from pleasant.
Half an hour later the raindrops began to fall, at first scatteringly and then in a steady downpour. It was a cold rain and made one and another of the little party shiver.
"I must say I don't like this," said Allen, when he was more than half soaked through. "I wonder if we can't find shelter until the worst of this is over?"