“We’re in great luck!” cried Elmer, ten seconds later, “for here’s just the sort of ledge I had in mind, with plenty of room for all of us to creep under the outcropping shelf of rock.”
Down on hands and knees they went. This was no time for being particular, when the situation was so desperate; a little dirt did not matter, for who does not know how the average boy manages to keep on good terms with grime, without letting its presence interfere at all with his appetite, or enjoyment.
“Whirr! whirr!”
“Hey! what’s all this?” bellowed Wee Willie, already screwed up in a knot, as he doubled his long legs in the endeavor to push further under the friendly shelf of rock, one of Nature’s freaks in that neck of the tall timber, but wonderfully acceptable to those caught in the wild storm.
“Only a covey of partridges we’ve scared out of their hiding-place,” Elmer instantly called back. “They thought they owned it, but we’ve put in a quit claim. All under, boys?”
“Say, this isn’t half so bad!” Amos exclaimed.
“It’s all right,” ventured Wee Willie, “if only we don’t get drowned in the water that’s going to ooze from our clothes. I reckon I weigh close on a ton right now; why, I could hardly lift my leg toward the last, I carried such a cargo of soaked stuff with me.”
They lay there panting for a while, “resting up,” as a boy would put it.
“Any port in a storm, the sailor says,” Elmer presently sang out, “and this time we can understand what that homely old phrase means.”
“Getting some chilly though, don’t you think?” said Amos, his teeth chattering as he spoke.