"Oh! this is awful," wailed Nugget. "The water is running down my neck, and I'm sitting in a big puddle. It's coming in all around me."
"You ought to be thankful you're not sitting in the open air," muttered Clay. "That may be the next thing."
At Ned's suggestion—which, strange to say, had not occurred to any one before—the boys overhauled their clothing bags and put on their rubber coats. Each was provided with one of those useful articles.
As they sat about the flickering flame of the lantern a more furious gust than any that had preceded came shrieking down the creek. In the midst of its passage a great crash was heard, so loud and so near that the very ground seems to tremble.
The boys could not repress a cry of terror. A tree had fallen close by, and they dreaded lest another would crush the tent.
"Gracious! what if that was the big buttonwood!" cried Randy. "Our canoes—"
His agitated face finished the sentence more plainly than words could have done.
Ned rose, pulling his coat close about him, and seized the lantern.
"I must see about that," he said hoarsely. "Stay right here. I will be back in a moment."
Before the others could utter a word of protest, he lifted the rear end of the canvas half a foot, and, with lantern in hand, squirmed through like a snake, leaving the tent in utter darkness.