At last, satisfied that it was as strong as human hands could make it, she returned to the girls who were still watching the dying flames of their campfire.
The wind was rising higher and higher every moment while the branches of the trees swayed and moaned beneath its fury. Leaves and small twigs fell upon the girls where they stood, mute evidence of the wrath of the elements.
“Th-there comes the rain!” said Amy suddenly. “Listen!”
They listened, and, far out on the lake, they could hear a tearing, rending sound and a muffled splashing that they knew was rain beating on the water.
“A cloudburst!” muttered Mollie, adding, suddenly: “Did you cover the Gem, Betty?”
The Little Captain nodded and made a swift movement toward the tent.
“Get inside, everybody,” she commanded. “This is going to be a beautiful storm once it reaches us. Might as well stay dry as long as we can.”
They had barely crowded into the tent when the rain overtook them, tearing down in a solid, sheeting torrent. Betty pulled the flap taut, fastening it securely.
At the same moment Mollie rushed over to the window in the back of the tent, pulling down its covering of canvas.
“All secure so far,” she said, trying to make her voice sound cheerful. “Now let’s hope the tent will hold up.”