About half an hour after dark, Harry, at the window, had sounded a quick alarm.
“Tom!” he had shouted, “every light in the town has shut off in a second!”
This meant that the storm had carried down the electric supply line from Springville. Tom thought uneasily of the folks at home. Then the assaults of the high breeze on their aerial perch caused him to center his attention on their own position, and be ready to save themselves if collapse came.
“Here, Harry, use this,” ordered Tom, as his companion picked up a coat to stop up the hole in the broken sash.
Harry took the square piece of matting Tom tendered. He picked a hammer and nails to secure it across the sash. About to set it in place, however, he interrupted proceedings with a violent:
“Hark!”
“What’s the matter, Harry?” questioned Tom.
Harry held up a hand, warningly. He bent his ear keenly towards the aperture. Then he turned to Tom.
“Did you hear it?” he demanded.
“Hear what?”