Boom! Crash! Cr-a-ckk! the lightning hurled itself on the forest, and the earth vibrated with the sharp rolls of voluminous sound. The water came now in solid sheets, and the lean-to was as a sieve over Jules and Le Grand. They were wet to the skin, but they were happy.
Then quickly as it had come, the storm passed by, the rain ceased, the air was still again; only the trees dripped liquidly while the hoarse mumblings and white flashes faded away to the southward.
The two wrung out their saturated clothes and slept.
Le Grand was the first to get up in the morning.
“Eternellement diable!” he said aloud; his voice wakened Jules.
“Somme t’ing de mattaire?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Sacré by dam’, oui! Ah lef’ mon couteau dat toi geeve to me t’ree year’ h’ago à la rivière yes’day! Ah no vant lose dat, non plus; mus’ go back an’ fin’ eet,” and Le Grand swore.
“Ah go pour toi,” Jules suggested.
“Non pas encore vieillard moi! No sooch ol’ man dat Ah can no go à traverse les forêts manny year’!” the other grunted, and the two had breakfast.
“Vait for me ici; Ah comme back ver’ queeck!” Le Grand said, and disappeared among the trees.