“What does Okématan think?” asked the host.
Thus appealed to, the chief gave it as his opinion that something was going to happen, for the sky in the nor’-west looked uncommonly black. Having given utterance to this cautious remark he relapsed into silence.
As if to justify his opinion, a tremendous clap of thunder seemed to rend the heavens at that moment, and, a few minutes later, a heavy shower of rain fell.
“Well that we got inside before that came on,” said Archie. “I hope it won’t come on to blow, else we shall be storm-stayed here.”
The weather seemed to be in a lively mood that night, for as the thunder had promptly answered to Okématan’s observation, so now the wind replied to Archie’s remark, by rushing up the natural avenue which extended from the hut to the lake and almost bursting in the door.
“See to the ropes, boys,” said old Dobelle, glancing uneasily at the roof.
The young men arose, went out, regardless of weather, and secured with additional care a couple of stout ropes with which the tendency of the roof to fly away was restrained.
“Did it ever come off?” asked Archie with some curiosity, as the young men returned and resumed their pipes.
“Yes—twice, and both times it was night,” answered Madame Dobelle, “and we were flooded out and had to camp under the trees.”
“Which was not comfortable,” added the old man. Another clap of thunder seemed to corroborate what he said, and a blast of wind followed, which caused the whole fabric of the hut to shudder. Jenkins looked inquiringly at the roof.