[CHAPTER XIX]
ABOVE THE CLOUDS
Rain, fog and wind form a decidedly unpleasant combination on the sloping sides of a mountain.
The three Ramblers and their friend Jim Havens were not long in having this fact impressed upon them. With surprising suddenness, the wind increased to a gale, sweeping everything before it, and the boys, crouching almost flat, had difficulty in avoiding the stones which rattled down from above.
Presently, the ominous darkness was momentarily dispelled by a dazzling gleam of bluish-white. Then followed a crackling sound, which merged into a crash that seemed to jar the mountain.
The obscurity grew denser. Never in their lives had they been in such a fog. It almost startled them to realize that they could scarcely see each other—that they were, in fact, amidst the very storm-clouds.
Each moment they expected another blinding glare and solemn peal of thunder, but it seemed as if nature had spent most of its electrical energy. The next flash, which only came after a considerate interval, was much less brilliant.
Dick Travers protected his precious camera as well as he could, but several times it almost slipped from his grasp.
Chilled, and soaked to the skin, the boys could do nothing but wait. The clouds kept swirling past, while the wind moaned and howled, making conversation almost impossible.