“That’s it!” interrupted Dan with a glad cry. “It’s the pattering noise I mean. Fellows, there’s a way out after all. It’s raining, and if it keeps up long enough the games will have to be called off. Now, if any of you have any sort of pull with the weather man have him make it rain like the old scratch, and keep it up. It’s our only salvation. A postponement means a week, and in that time Tom and Sid will be fit as fiddles. Come on, oh you rain drops!”
For a moment or two the students all stared at Dan as though they thought he had taken leave of his senses. Then, as the patter on the window ledge outside became more pronounced, and as the gentle shower became a veritable downpour, all understood Dan’s elation. Postponement—delay—was the thing they needed most of all, and it seemed likely to be their luck.
“Oh, if it only lasts!” half-whispered Tom. “If it isn’t just a little shower, that will only lay the dust!”
Dan jumped up, and made his way to the window, shoving Phil to one side so forcibly that he toppled into one of the armchairs, with impact enough to almost wreck it.
“Hey! Look out what you’re doing!” cried Phil. “What are you up to, anyhow?”
“I’m going to stick my head out, and get soaked, then maybe the rain-god will take that as a sort of votive offering, and keep the faucets turned on all night,” replied Dan.
As he spoke there came a downpour harder than ever, and as he thrust forth his head he was drenched in an instant.
“I guess it’ll keep up all night,” he remarked. “It seems a mean thing to wish, perhaps, for it will spoil a lot of people’s fun, and the other colleges won’t like the postponement, but it’s Randall’s only hope. Rain on! Rain on!”
And rain it did, with increasing violence.
“How’s the wind?” asked Tom, with a memory of the days spent on the farm, when the weather was a fruitful source of talk, and when much depended on reading the signs.