As the howling wind gained in intensity it seemed as though the tent must be blown to ribbons, but stout canvas will stand considerable weather strain.
"If we had driven the wooden pins for the guy-ropes," muttered
Greg, "everyone of them would have been washed loose by this time."
"They would have been," Dick assented, "and the tent would now be down upon our heads, a drenched wreck. As it is, I think we can pull through a night of bad weather."
In an hour the flashes of lightning had become less frequent. The wind had abated slightly, but there was no cessation of the downpour.
"I pity anyone who has to travel the highway in this storm," muttered
Dave. "This isn't weather for human beings."
"Yet every bird of the air has to weather it," observed Hazelton.
"Yes," muttered Tom, "and a good many of the birds of the air will be killed in this storm, too."
Night came down early. The wind and rain had sent the temperature down until it seemed to the high school boys more like an October night. The warmth and light in the tent were highly gratifying to all.
"As long as the tent holds I can't think of a blessed thing we have to go outside for," sighed Reade contentedly.
"We don't have to," laughed Dick. "Fellows, we're away off in the wilderness, but we're as happy as we could be in a palace. How about supper?"