"All hands had better dress," advised Butler. "I think we are about to experience some trouble."
"What do you think?" questioned the Professor.
"I think we are in for a ducking."
Tad put on a rubber coat, and pulling his hat well down, stepped out. By this time there was no fire. It had been drowned out, and the night was black. He could not see a thing, but the ominous roar of the creek was close at hand.
The boy went back to his tent and got a lantern. Emerging with this, a grim smile settled on the Pony Rider Boy's face as he surveyed the scene. The waters from the stream were swirling and eddying about the bases of the tents; the stream had left its former channel and pretty much all the former dry ground was covered with a thin coating of water. Professor Zepplin glanced about apprehensively.
"This looks serious," he observed.
"It does," agreed Tad.
"But what are we going to do?"
"I think we had better break camp and try to make our way out of this while we may," replied Tad. "The horses already are standing in water above their fetlocks. They'll be in it up to their bodies soon, at the present rate of rise."
"What does the guide say?" demanded Professor Zepplin.