“Me too,” called out a second scout.
Accordingly several of them followed Tom and Horace out from under the ledges. There were at least six in the group that hurried along toward the spot where the splendid oak had been noticed an hour before.
They were compelled to pick their way along, for little streams of water flowed in almost every direction; besides, the trees were shedding miniature Niagaras that would be very unpleasant if received in the back of the neck by any one passing underneath.
In this fashion they neared the place. Every boy was keenly on the lookout.
“Why, I don’t see anything at all of the tree, and yet it certainly stood high above those smaller ones over there!” exclaimed Horace, presently, with a curious little quiver of awe in his voice.
Ten seconds later they had advanced far enough to pass the barrier formed by those lesser forest trees. Then the entire group of scouts came to a sudden stop and simply stared. Horace even rubbed his eyes as if he half believed he might be dreaming.
The big oak was gone!
Where it had stood they saw a shattered trunk not more than twenty feet high. Upon the ground in every direction lay torn and twisted limbs and smaller branches, just as they had been violently hurled when that terrible electric bolt struck with such amazing force.
“Whew!” gasped Josh, “there’s an object lesson for you, Horace!”
“It’s the same for each one of us,” added Tom, gravely; “and for every scout who ever hears of it.”