"Pile out as quickly as possible. We are likely to have trouble. And call your bear off."
Henry was sniffing at Tom's heels and growling ominously, but he obeyed the incisive command of his master and retired to his position in front of her tent.
The girls, he found, were already out of their tents, blankets over their heads, all shivering in the chill rain, all too cold to speak except Emma Dean.
"I—I to-o-old you something was go-going to happen," she stammered. "The v-v-v-voice of nature to-o-old me so."
"N-n-n-nature is an old fogy," jeered Hippy mockingly. "Nothing has happened and I don't know why we have been dragged out into this rotten storm."
"Follow me and watch your step," directed Tom tersely. He led the way to the river and along its bank to the tethering ground. "Lead your ponies to a safer place, further up the stream," he ordered.
This hurried departure from their camp was a good deal of a mystery to the Overland Riders. They did not understand why, nor did Tom Gray tell them.
"Hippy, help me tie the horses," he said, after having gone several rods further up stream. "One at a time with the ponies, folks, then go make yourselves as comfortable as possible under the bluff of the bank. The bushes there will offer you more protection from the wind and rain than the trees would."
Shortly thereafter Tom and Hippy joined their shivering companions, and the party, with blankets stretched over their heads, huddled miserably as they sat on the wet ground under the blanket roof, Hindenburg on Hippy's lap, and Henry outside in the rain licking the water from his dripping coat of fur.
"How are you, J. Elfreda?" teased Grace.