“Hear that!” he whispered.
“Nothing but an echo,” said Rodney in a low, even tone, although he realized that his own nerves were unusually tense.
“Gee! that’s right,” breathed Phil in relief; “but it gug-gug-gave me a jump.”
“It must be evident, comrades,” said Piper hurriedly, “that yonder hut can scarce afford us shelter from the storm which is advancing apace.”
The dark clouds had now shut out the sun, and the shadows beneath the pines were swiftly becoming so dense that the eye could pierce them for a short distance only, save when a flash of lightning made every object stand forth with great distinctness. The thunder which followed these electrical discharges was of the snappy, crackling kind, but the protracted space of time between each flash and report made Grant confident that the heart of the storm was yet miles away.
“You’re right, Sleuth,” agreed Springer eagerly; “we cuc-can’t get away from the rain in that old sh-shack.”
“Let’s take a look inside the hut, anyhow,” suggested Grant. “I hate to hike away without doing that much.”
Starting forward as he spoke, he stepped into a shallow excavation, which he would have observed before him under different circumstances. Annoyed, he scrambled up from his knees, to which he had plunged.
“Look out, fellows,” he warned, noticing for the first time that there were many similar excavations in the glade. “The treasure hunters sure have near dug up the whole place.”
With some reluctance Phil and Sleuth followed Rodney. At the open door of the hut the Texan stopped to look inside, and his companions peered over his shoulder. But the gloom was now so intense that little of the hut’s interior could be made out.