CHAPTER XVIII
A CLOSE CALL
"Hold 'em! hold 'em!" whooped William, as he found himself mixed up in the canvas of the tent which had fallen in a heap; for evidently he was of the opinion that all this racket must be caused by those vindictive workers of evil, Ted Slavin and his crowd.
"Look to your tent pins, fellows!" shouted Paul, lustily, as he hurried around to lend what assistance lay in his power.
He had little fear about his own tent, understanding just how it had been put up. But all of the scouts were not so well versed in the little tricks known to those who spend much time under canvas; and there was a chance that others would share the sad fate that had already befallen poor William.
Then there was a great scurrying to and fro. As the storm broke the boys shuddered and held on to the ropes for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were clad only in pajamas, which were soon rain soaked.
"Never mind that little thing, fellows," sang out the care-free Bobolink; "because you know we can get plenty of dry clothes after she's over; but if you let the tents blow away, where, oh! where do we come in? Hold hard, everybody; here comes another bluff at us. Wow! get a grip on my legs, will you? I'm agoin' to fly, that's what!"
But some of his mates held on doggedly, and Bobolink consented to remain on earth a while longer. As long as it lasted it was one of the greatest short storms most of the scouts could remember ever experiencing. But then, up to now, they had been pretty much in the habit of viewing such convulsions of nature from the shelter of a snug harbor in the shape of a home window; and things looked vastly different when the same Summer gale was met, with tents threatening to carry away, and the trees groaning in the furious wind.
"She's over!" cried Jack, at last, when the storm seemed to come to a halt almost as suddenly as it had broken.