“Just wanted to see if I could find out which leg that grasshopper was fiddling on. I can’t, though. Man, what a racket this silence makes!”
Those about him realized fully the sense of Roy’s remark. The silence really did “make a racket!” It crowded in upon them, beating a weird tune just over their heads. The night air pulsated with an intense stillness. It was Nick who, with a single sentence, shattered the mystery of it.
“I reckon,” he said calmly, “she’s goin’ to rain.”
Silent, squatting cross-legged a short distance from the fire, nodded in agreement.
“Before twelve to-night,” he declared.
“Stars are still out,” Teddy objected. “Millions of ’em.”
Roy arose, walked away from the fire and into the darkness of the woods. The camp had been pitched just on the edge of a small forest, through which ran the brook.
“Yes,” he called back after a moment, “lightning in the west. Wind’s blowing this way. We’ll get it, all right.”
“Then we might just as well tie them broncs up a little tighter,” Nick advised. “What do you think, Silent—shall we move ’em toward the open, or is it just as well to let ’em stay where they are?”
“Why move ’em?” Teddy broke in. “They’re all right there. But we can fasten ’em up a little better. Yes, sir, it is going to rain!”