Being in a strange region, with a storm on the point of breaking, was not pleasant even to older nerves, when added to the natural terrors of a night in the woods, without any other company than one's brooding thoughts.
"Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed as he almost ran against an obstruction that looked not unlike a steep house roof.
The odor of tar and resin pervaded the air. Ralph groped his way around it, feeling here and there with his hands.
"It's a tar kiln, sure as preaching!" ejaculated he, at length. "There ought to be some kind of a shack about, looks like."
He was still searching, when the wind, which had been increasing, brought with it a sudden downpour of rain. Ralph was about to rush for a tree to shelter himself, when a flash of lightning lighted up the kiln and surrounding objects with a pale, brief glare.
"Ha—there she is!" exclaimed Ralph, discovering the object of his search. "I almost knew the man as put up this kiln must have had a shelter of some kind."
He made his way to a low, brush covered frame near by, arriving there just in time. The darkness was intense, except when cloven by the lightning, while the fall of rain was drenching and furious.
The shack leaked some, but it was an immense improvement over a tree for shelter.
"Let's see where we are, anyhow," said Ralph, producing some matches, one of which he struck. "Hello! There are some pine knots. Here's luck at last."
In a few minutes he had a small fire blazing brightly, and felt more like contemplating his surroundings with cheerful equanimity.