“Well, let’s wait a bit and see if it doesn’t hold up some. This fire’s immense! Wonder can we find any more wood?”
At that instant there was a blinding flash of lightning, a terrific crash of thunder, and a shock that threw Dan and Tom, who had been standing, off their feet. Simultaneously a portion of the roof of the cabin fell, with a cloud of dust and débris, and one of the timbers crashed into their midst, scattering the fire. For an instant there was silence. Every one of the quartet had been momentarily stunned by the lightning. Then they were on their feet, white-faced and trembling; all save Nelson, who lay stretched on the floor, with the blood flowing from a gash in his head. Here and there a brand from the fire flickered, but a new light flooded the cabin from without, where a giant pine, its trunk lying across the cabin, was burning fiercely. After the first instant of terror Bob ran to Nelson.
“Get some water, somebody!” he called.
“Is he dead?” asked Tom weakly.
“I don’t know; he’s got a beast of a cut here from that log; stunned him, I guess. Where’s the water?”
Dan hurried back with his cap dripping.
“Here’s some,” he panted. “Fetch some more, Tom; hold your cap under the corner of the house. Is he much hurt?”
But Nelson answered the question himself, reaching up to push away the hand that was bathing his face and head, and opening his eyes to blink dazedly about him.
“You lie still a minute,” commanded Bob. “That log fetched you a whack on the head, but you’ll be all right in a minute.”
“Oh,” said Nelson, memory returning, “say, that was a peach of a bump, wasn’t it? Any one struck? Where’s Tommy?”