For an hour or more the storm raged, blinding lightning and deafening thunder succeeding one another. But the bungalow was snug and safe, though once, when a tree was struck not far away, the girls screamed in terror.
That crash, however, seemed to be the culmination of the outburst, for from then on the rain began to slacken, and the thunder died away in muttered rumblings and the lightning became paler and paler until it was only a faint, shimmering light.
Then the dark sky cleared and the sun came out, shining through the storm-riven clouds and warming the ground and trees which were dripping from the vigorous bath.
“We got home just in time,” commented Cora, as they looked out on the ceasing storm. “A little longer on the mountain and we would have been drenched.”
“That cave was a find,” commented Jack. “I want to see what’s in it.”
“Probably nothing more than a hole in the side of the mountain,” commented Bess.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” voiced Walter. “I wonder if Mr. Floyd knows anything about it?”
It developed that the caretaker did not, though he said there were several small mountain caves in that section, and this was probably one of them that he had not chanced upon.
“Do you think smugglers or pirates might have used it?” asked Hazel, with a smile.
“Hardly pirates,” commented Jack. “Too far from the water. But smugglers might have done so. We’re not so far from the Canadian line.”