“If they follow bear tracks like they followed the calf’s hoofprints, they’ll sure find something at the end of the trail,” teased Mr. Gilroy.
All that morning the sun had remained under a heavy pall of clouds, but noon brought forth its hot shining rays, and the long-reaching fingers seeming to edge the grey clouds with molten gold. During the afternoon the sun had shone fitfully, but towards evening it set in a gorgeous bath of color, the stormbanks that were piled up about it, adding a barbaric touch to the scene.
Flaunting streaks of gold and crimson shot here and there from back of the clouds; and these in turn seemed to reach out in a confused riot of dazzling purple, amber and copper-edged mountains that rose in majesty overhead.
All this wondrous coloring faded rapidly, however, and in a short time the somber gray of the clouds again predominated. Then a chill spread over everything.
“Him rain sure!” remarked Tally, holding a palm to the wind.
“When?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“Mebbe bed-time—mebbe after night.”
“Then we’d better prepare for it beforehand,” suggested Mr. Vernon.
“Collect plenty of wood and spread the rubber sheets over it,” said Mr. Gilroy. “We’ll see that the tent ropes are well fastened to-night so the wind won’t carry away any canvas.”
Tally was right. Rain began to fall about nine o’clock. At first it came gently and unobtrusively, but soon it was driven in sheets by high winds. It was well the guide had rolled great pine stumps to the fire, to keep the necessary fuel dry through the night. Although the scouts, rolled in their rubber covers, were unconscious of the elements that raged about and over them, Tally sat up feeding the fire that kept an area about the sleepers dry all night.