"Little Billie and I'll go over to the boats, and see that the curtains are buttoned down snug. Some of us can stay inside while its rainin' and that'll give more room in the tents," Bobolink remarked, jumping to his feet, with a return of his customary lively Way.
"And in this sink we'll be protected from any wind coming from the south, don't you think, Paul?" Jack ventured.
"Couldn't be better," was the reply. "Those trees and bushes, as well as the rise in the ground, will help a lot. But get busy, fellows, with those tent pins. I'll take the axe, and go the rounds myself, to make doubly sure. It's not the nicest thing in the world to have your canvas blow away—eh, Nuthin?"
"You're right, it isn't," replied the little scout, "'specially when it lifts you right up with it into a tree, and has you tied up there in the snarls of a clothes line. I know all about that, and none of the rest of you ever tried it. Excuse me from another balloon ride like that."
In a short time everything was done that could be thought of to render things storm-proof. Then the boys went over to the edge of the water to watch the advance of the black clouds, which those at the boats in the little cove declared was a sight worth seeing.
And it certainly was, all the scouts admitted. Some of them were filled with a certain awe, as they saw how inky the clouds looked. But what boy, or man either, for that matter, is there who has not felt this sensation when watching scurrying clouds that tell of an approaching storm?
By degrees the boys began to drift back to the camp. Every sort of excuse was given for leaving the beach. One fellow suddenly remembered that he had left his coat hanging on a bush, another had forgotten to fasten his knapsack, while a third wished to tie his blanket in a roll, in case the water did find a way to get into the sink.
Paul, Jack, Bobolink and Jud remained until they saw the rough water away down near the southern shore of the lake, and understood that the first squall must be swooping upon them. Then they too gave up the vigil, for the chances were the rain would come with the first breeze.
With a howl and a roar the storm broke upon them. Cowering in the tents, about four in each, as the others had taken to the boats, they waited with more or less suspense what might happen.
The wind made the canvas shake at a lively clip, and the fastenings on the southern side were sorely tried; but they had been well taken care of and Paul called out that he believed they were going to hold.