“If it comes out it had better bring an umbrella, that’s all I can say,” observed John.
“A pretty poor joke, String,” said George. “Try another one; it might be better.”
“The sun is coming out,” cried Grant. “The storm is almost over, I guess.”
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Fred. “Now we can see where we are.”
Little by little the rain abated, the wind died down and the thunder melted away in the distance. Before many moments had passed the sun broke forth from behind a cloud and blue sky appeared.
“Do they have many of these squalls around here, I wonder?” said George. “I don’t think very highly of them myself.”
“Nor I,” agreed Grant. “Just look where it carried us.”
“There’s our island,” exclaimed Fred. “I thought it was in the other direction though.”
“So it was,” said John. “We traveled the whole length of the lake, I guess.”
“Right past our camp?”