“But that big tree has stood for one or two hundred years and never been hit by lightning,” objected Horace, who could not understand exactly.
“So have others that I’ve seen shattered to fragments,” Mr. Witherspoon told him, “but their time came at last, and without warning. We can’t afford to accept the risk. There is only one safe way, and that is to avoid dangerous places.”
The thunder grew louder with every peal. There were vivid flashes of lightning, too, each of which caused Horace to start and close his eyes, though he bravely suppressed the groan that seemed ready to burst from his lips.
Tom, as well as Mr. Witherspoon, Josh and Rob Shaefer, was constantly on the lookout for some sign of shelter. The ground seemed to favor the possibility of finding something in the line of overlapping lines of rock, which, forming a mushroom ledge, would screen them from the violence of the expected downpour.
After all, the honor of making the discovery went to Carl.
“Look over yonder between those bushes, sir; doesn’t that seem to be about the kind of place you’re after?” he called out, clutching the scout master by the arm.
So impressed was Mr. Witherspoon by what he saw that he immediately directed all of his charges to make for the spot pell-mell. The first big drops were coming down as they arrived, to find that, sure enough, the ledges of stone cropped out as much as six or seven feet.
“Crawl under wherever you can find a good place, and lie quiet!” ordered the scout master; and in several detachments they proceeded to get out of the rain, now commencing to fall heavily.
The wind rushed through the branches with a furious shriek; the thunder crashed; they heard several trees fall under the strain; and then without warning came a blinding flash, with a terrific ear-splitting roar of thunder accompanying it.
Horace, who with a number of others was in the cavity Tom had chosen, shrank close to the leader of the Black Bear Patrol.