“Get up! It’s dangerous here. The storm blew down one of the trees and it struck the chimney!”
There was another crash. Stones and rocks went bumping and rolling down the roof, and more débris came tumbling into the fireplace.
Hanleigh needed no second urging. He sprang out of bed, then halted with a groan of pain.
“My ankle!” he said.
“I’ll help you.” Frank seized him by the arm, and Hanleigh hobbled out into the kitchen, where the others were gathered. The cabin was creaking and swaying in the violent wind. Every little while they could hear an additional fragment of the chimney come crashing down onto the roof.
“Is the chimney coming down?” demanded Hanleigh eagerly.
They looked at him in surprise. Instead of being frightened, the man actually appeared glad of the mishap.
“If that other tree blows over and hits it, the chimney will be wrecked,” said Frank sharply. “I can’t see anything to look forward to in that.”
Hanleigh was silent, but there was a look of undisguised elation in his swarthy face.
The wind was a hurricane by now.