"Your shack was struck by lightning," Fred answered glibly, and then, ever ready to lie, he added, "I was passing by in the car, in a hurry to get back to the hotel, and I saw the thing happen. The lightning ran along the ridge-pole, then down into the tent and out at the sides along the ground. I'm afraid same of your fellows have been struck. At first I thought all of you had been killed, so I ran down here to investigate."
But Dave paid little heed to the last part of this statement.
He had seized hold of one side of the canvas, holding it up.
"Dick!" he called lustily. "Tom, Greg, Dan, Harry!"
There was no response. The thunder continued to boom louder than ever.
"Hold this canvas up," Dave Darrin ordered sharply, and Ripley, knowing that Towser was eyeing him, obeyed. Inside crawled Darrin, shaking each of his friends in turn and calling to them.
"I can't wake 'em! I can't get 'em to speak," reported Darrin, crawling out again, his face white with anguish. "I'm afraid they've been——-"
"Yes," nodded Ripley, in a hoarse voice. "They're dead!"
"How did you say you got here?" demanded Dave suddenly. "In a car?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll prop the canvas up to let air inside the tent, and then you'll drive me to the Hotel Pleasant as fast as you can go!"