"How?" demanded the other, a bit confused himself.
"Run for second base, and slide!" bellowed Lanky, who used this figurative language without intending any levity in the least, but because it came handiest to the tongue of a baseball enthusiast.
"If we only knew where the old thing was apt to come whooping down, Lanky, we might take a chance. But for all we can tell, it's as safe right here as anywhere else."
"Guess that's so," agreed the distressed Lanky. "But, shucks, it's hard lines to just hang around and wait to see whether you stick or get a free ride atop an avalanche!"
Nevertheless, there was absolutely nothing else for them to do. Indeed, the wind storm was by this time so frightful that had the boys attempted to move along the side of the steep mountain they were apt to be snatched up and carried away like thistle-down on a summer's breeze.
"Gettin' worse and worse!" called out Lanky, a few minutes after the decision had been made to stay where they were and try to "duck" in case they were given any warning of the coming of a great slide.
From one particular quarter they now heard a dreadful confusion of noises that in Frank's mind could mean only one thing. There were also distinct vibrations of the rocks underfoot that convinced him of the truth.
"That's caused by a slide somewhere over to the right," he told Lanky, who was clutching a near-by tree in order to keep from being blown away.
"Don't see anything of it, Frank, do you?"
"Air's filled with all sorts of things—dead leaves, branches ripped from pinon and oak trees, all whirling around like mad," called back Frank. "But it's over that way, I'm sure."