No doubt in four families that same evening, while the good people of the house gathered about the board, there was considerable interest taken in certain versions of that day’s adventures. More than one mother’s cheeks grew pale as she learned how close her boy had been to a sudden death, while the father nodded his head and remarked in this wise:
“Now, I shouldn’t be surprised if Boy Scout training did amount to considerable, after all. That was a simple thing to know, but it proved to be mighty practical in application. Beware of trees and barns during a thunder storm. I’m glad you showed such good sense, son.”
The account given in Hugh Hardin’s home was much more modest than in any of the others. He shared the credit for discovering the wonderful shelves of rocks and the determination not to stay under the tree, so that any one listening might have received the impression that all four lads had simultaneously settled upon those important points. Hugh used the word “we” constantly, and it was not until later, when his folks met with the parents of the other boys, that they learned just where all the thoughtfulness lay.
The following day dawned as “fine as silk,” as Arthur gleefully told Hugh over the ’phone, when asking what would be the best time for them to start out on their second trip to the woods.
“This is just the dandiest day for taking pictures that ever could be, Hugh,” he went on to say. “The air is as clear as a bell, and you know that counts for a heap. My book of instructions says that’s why they get such fine views out in California, where the atmosphere is extremely rarefied.”
“Whew! does it say all that?” laughed Hugh. “Then I don’t wonder you’re anxious to take advantage of a day like this. That storm has cleared the air in a great way, for a fact.”
“Well, if they’d had it as severe here as we did up there in the woods,” continued Arthur, “it would have been tough on church steeples and such. I believe there wouldn’t have been one left in town. But only a few trees were blown down, and one house struck.”
“Where was that?” asked Hugh. “I hadn’t heard about any such thing.”
“Luckiest thing ever,” said Arthur; “it happened to be that old deserted building that was called Sutton’s Folly. Lightning set it afire, and in the storm the Excelsior Company couldn’t get out there to do their little business; so it burned to the ground, some people say. Others speak of the ruins standing, and looking queer. I’m bound out that way right now to try for a picture. How about the time we start up into the woods, Hugh? Would one o’clock do?”
“Make it one, and if either of the other boys can’t get off I’ll let you know, Arthur,” the other informed him.