It was some time after midnight when the camp was aroused by a terrific explosion. The Overland Riders leaped up in alarm and ran out into the open. They discovered Tom Gray dancing about, shaking the fire from his blanket.
“Did the camp blow up?” yelled Stacy as he came running from his tent.
“No. Lightning struck hard by,” answered Tom.
“Foggy, isn’t it?” observed Stacy in a weak voice.
“No, clouds,” replied Tom briefly.
“Are—are we going to have another storm?” stammered Emma.
“We are going to be in the heart of it,” Tom informed her. “As I told you, there is a storm just below us and also one over our heads. If the two meet, look out.”
A blinding flash, followed instantly by a terrific crash of thunder, threw some of the Overland Riders from their feet. The bolt had struck very close to them, and for the moment they were stunned, but Tom and Grace, first regaining their composure, shook their companions, assisted them to their feet and urged them to “buck up,” as Tom put it.
The ponies could be heard neighing and stamping, but the Overlanders generally were too much alarmed to give heed to the animals.
A second quivering bolt, driven against the mountain-side from above, was answered almost instantaneously by another bolt that seemed to come from below. Then the artillery of nature opened up. Flashes and crashes followed each other in such close succession that they left no breathing spell for the frightened spectators.