The rain was now pouring down steadily, and in a very few minutes he was wet to the skin.
"If I had a rope or a pole I might get out," he reasoned. But he had absolutely nothing with which to help himself.
A quarter of an hour went by and then to Dave's alarm he found the water pouring into the hole steadily from a rivulet above. Soon the water was up to his ankles and it arose steadily to his knees.
The storm was now on in all of its fury, and in the forest he could hear the trees swaying and snapping under the pressure of the high wind that was blowing.
Again he made an effort to crawl out of the opening. But the rocks were now wet and slippery and afforded no foothold whatever.
The wind was increasing steadily until it blew a regular hurricane. High overhead he saw some branches of trees sailing through the air.
"I hope those in camp are safe," he said to himself.
A little later came an extra heavy blast of wind. There followed a great crashing, and in an instant a big tree fell directly over the opening, cutting off much of the light above.
One of the tree branches pressed down on Dave's head, forcing him to a sitting position in the hole.
"This is the worst yet!" he muttered, after he realized that he was not harmed. "Now I am a regular prisoner. I can't move that tree, that's sure!"