“Supposing we had taken refuge under that fine old oak,” suggested Felix, with a shrug of his shoulders; “not one of us would have ever known what hit him.”
“I’ve seen all I want to, Tom; let us go back,” said Horace, who looked rather white by now. “Besides, I think it’s going to pour down again shortly.”
“That’s right,” added another scout; “you can hear it coming over there. Everybody scoot for the home base.”
They lost no time in retracing their steps, and just managed to reach the friendly shelter of the ledges when the rain did come down, if anything harder than ever.
“There’ll be a big boom in the river after this!” remarked Felix, when the rain had been falling in a deluge for ten minutes.
“I think it must be next door to what they call a cloud burst; wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Witherspoon?” asked another boy.
“It seems like it,” he was told by the scout master. “Meantime we ought to be very thankful we’re so well provided for. No danger of being floated away this far up on the mountain. But the rain is going to stop presently.”
“Getting softer already!” announced the watchful Josh.
“I didn’t have any chance to ask you about the big oak?” Mr. Witherspoon continued.
“There isn’t any,” remarked Felix; “only a wreck that would make you hold your breath and rub your eyes.”