“How far is it over there?”
“Five miles.”
“Well, I think we had better make for it. If there should come a cloudburst or even a heavy fall of rain in these lowlands we might get swamped.”
“I believe you are right,” agreed Frank. “We will do that.”
He changed the course of the Scorcher at once. Five miles was quickly covered, and they reached the hill.
The great, angry cloud had swept up to the zenith. A blackness most intense was settling down over the landscape.
“Ugh!” exclaimed Wendel, “we’re going to have a bit of a blow, mates.”
“Bejabers, av that’s so, I’m afther thinkin’ we’re on high enough land to git the whole benifit av it.”
“That’s true, Barney,” said Frank, “but it’s better than getting drowned.”
“Phwat’s that, sor?” asked the Celt in surprise. “Shure, there’s no chance av that, is there?”