“Oh, Tom!” he cried, when his voice could be heard, “didn’t that sound right from where that magnificent big oak tree stood that I wanted to get under?”
“Just what it did!” Josh Kingsley told him, vehemently, while Tom said:
“We’ll investigate after the storm is over, Horace; but right now I’m of the opinion your fine oak is lying shattered into fragments by the bolt that fell!”
CHAPTER XVII
THE LANDSLIDE
“Whether that’s so or not,” said the trembling Horace, “I feel that I’ve learned a lesson. I own up that I’m terribly afraid of lightning; but after this I’m going to face it, even if I have to lie out in the storm, rather than take chances.”
It became difficult to carry on any sort of conversation, what with all the racket around them. The wind blew, the rain fell in sheets, and the thunder boomed so continuously that one deep-toned roll hardly died away before there would come another crash that made everybody start.
Still they were a thankful lot of boys as they lay under the ledges and counted the minutes creep past.