“Yes, I heard it; but what are we going to do?” answered the other, fretfully; for the prospect of getting a wet jacket was not very inviting.
“We’ll have to stand it, I guess; grin and bear it, as father says,” Dick returned, being much more philosophical than Roger.
“But some of our bundles will be soaked,” declared Roger.
“We can’t help that; and I’ve made sure to wrap our extra ammunition in the waterproof cloth, so as to save it. Both of us have our horns filled with powder, which will be sure to keep dry, no matter how we are drenched. I think I could jump into the river, and stay there an hour, without a drop getting into that good old horn father gave me long ago, and which he used himself when a boy.”
In this fashion did Dick seek to buoy up the low spirits of his companion.
“It’s getting closer, Dick, and that thunder is rattling pretty steady, seems to me. I’m sorry for both of us, because we’re due for a fine ducking. I hope the horses don’t get frightened, if the storm is a bad one, and break their ropes. Hadn’t we better bring them in close by, Dick? Looks like we’ve got to worry over our mounts, one way or another, right along. First it’s Indians stealing them; then the chance of some panther jumping the beasts for a meal; and now a stampede, if the lightning flashes too brightly, or the thunder breaks over us with a roar. How about it, Dick?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get them in here, and keep hold of the ropes,” the other replied; “horses are always more contented if they find themselves near human beings in a storm, so I’ve heard. So come on, then!”
They were now on their feet. The blackness of the night still held good, only every little while a flash of lightning along the horizon whence the storm was coming dispelled it for a brief interval, when they could see a long distance away.
Just as they started to get the horses Dick noticed that the distant rumbling sound had grown heavier. Suddenly he stood still, and clutched the sleeve of his companion’s tunic.