"Your fat friend, over there, is making queer noises, Master Tad. Must be having a bad dream."
Big-foot had reached a ponderous hand from his blankets and shaken Tad roughly.
"Mebby the gopher's having a fit. Better find out what ails him."
The rain was falling in torrents. The men were soaked to the skin, but it did not seem to disturb them in the least, judging by the quality of their snores.
Tad listened. Stacy Brown surely was having trouble of some sort. The lad threw off his blankets and ran over to where his companion was lying.
"Chunky's drowning," he exclaimed in a voice full of suppressed excitement.
Big-foot leaped to his feet, hurrying to the spot.
Stacy was lying in a little depression in the ground, a sort of puddle having formed about him, and when Tad reached him the lad had turned over on his face, only the back part of his head showing above the water. He appeared to be struggling, but unable to free himself from his unpleasant position.
They jerked him up choking and coughing, shaking him vigorously to get the water out of him.
"Wha—what's the matter!" stammered the boy.