"Lightning."
Even as he spoke a bolt descended right in the center of the camp, tearing a hole in the earth and hurling a cloud of dirt and dust many feet up into the air.
The force of the explosion knocked some of the party flat.
Chunky picked himself up and carefully brushed his clothes; then, solemnly walked out and sat down on the spot where the lightning had struck.
"Here, here! What are you doing out there?" demanded the guide.
"Sitting on the lightning."
"You come in here! And quick, at that!"
"Huh! Guess I know what I'm doing. Lightning never strikes twice in the same place. I'm—"
By this time Kris Kringle had the fat boy by the collar, hustling him to the protection of one of the tents.
No sooner had they reached it than a crash that seemed as if it had split the earth wide open descended upon them. Balls of fire shot off in every direction. One went right through the tent where they were huddled, hurling the Pony Rider Boys in a heap.