CHAPTER XVI
WHAT TO DO IN A STORM
"Would you mind letting me see that cap for a minute, Mr. Perkins?"asked the leader of the Black Bear Patrol.
The farmer seemed to hesitate as though loth to let his only evidencego out of his hand; but after one good look at the smiling countenanceof Tom Chesney apparently he felt ashamed of suspecting that soclean-looking a boy could mean to deceive him in any way. So he passedthe head-gear over.
Knowing that Tom must have some object in making this request the otherscouts pushed closer and watched eagerly. They saw him turn the cappartly inside out.
"I thought as much," Tom remarked laughingly, at the same timecarefully picking several tiny objects up, which he held before theeyes of the admiring farmer, who had doubtless never before heard ofsuch a thing as "scoutcraft."
"Look for yourself, Mr. Perkins," Tom said exultantly; "you will haveno difficulty in recognizing these as fiery red hairs. The boymentioned by my chum here, has a brick-top like that. I should say theevidence is about as conclusive as anything could be."
Mr. Perkins' mouth had opened wide. He was apparently thunder-struck bythe cleverness displayed by this stripling in clinching the guilt ofthe party who had stolen his spring chickens.
"Tell me his name again, Bub," he said turning to Josh; "I calc'latemakin' it some warm for him unless I gets pretty good pay for themfowls."
"His name is Tony Pollock," he was told with a grin, for somehow Joshseemed to be tickled over the retribution that was likely to overtakethe boy who had for so long a time acted as a bully in Lenox.
After some talk the farmer withdrew, taking with him his evidence inthe shape of the queer checked cap, and also the best wishes of theassembled scouts, who gave him a cheer as he drove away.
He had even promised to drop around at a couple of their houses withmessages hastily scribbled, to the effect that the boys were very well,and having the time of their lives.
Needless to say that those who sent these were the tender feet of thetroop. Horace and Billy, who imagined that their respective mothersmust be lying awake nights in mortal fear lest something dreadful hadhappened to the heretofore pampered darlings. Most of the other boyswere accustomed to being away from home, and prided themselves on beingable to show the spirit of veteran campers.
The fowls turned out to be the peer of any the boys had ever tasted.Indeed with the chicken cooked a delicate brown by those in charge, andseasoned with the keen appetites a day in the open air is apt to give aboy, that supper must always linger in their memories as a bright spotnever to be excelled.
By now the greenhorns would be getting more accustomed to seeing thewoods all around them, and probably sleep better than they did before.The second night in camp always does find everybody feeling more atease, and settling down for a good rest.
They had no reason to find fault with anything that happened to themafter the departure of Mr. Perkins. The stars came out in the heavensand there was apparently no sign of rain.
To satisfy the more timid boys, Tom and Rob Shaefer had started on abrush shanty, which they so far completed that it could be changed intoa fair shelter by making use of their rubber ponchos. It was not reallyneeded, though several of the boys chose to make up their beds underits arched roof, mentioning that they might feel the dew if ithappened to prove heavy.
Again they prepared breakfast, and then started off with a day's trampahead of them that would differ in many respects from anything as yetencountered. This was because they expected to strike boldly up theside of the massive mountain that reared its head far above them, itsslopes covered for the most part with a heavy growth of timber. This,however, thinned out the nearer one came to the summit, which in turnwas composed of bald rocks, grim and silent, save when some eagle gaveits shrill scream from a projecting crag.
They took their last look at the little road, and then Tom led the wayinto the heart of the wild growth. Just as they had anticipated it wasa great deal more difficult going now, for there was no trail save anoccasional cowpath which might lead down to the creek, or anywhereelse; and to which, for this reason, they could not pay any attention.
When noon came there was a loud call for a halt. While every boy wastoo proud to confess that his muscles were beginning to feel sore fromthe continual strain, he tried pretty hard to find some plausibleexcuse for wanting to make a good long halt.
While they were eating and fanning themselves, for it was very warm,Walter Douglass noticed Tom glancing off toward the southwest. Uponlooking in that direction himself he burst out with an exclamation:
"It's going to strike us this time, boys, as sure as anything!"
"What another irate farmer?" cried Josh, laughingly. "Whatever have thescouts been doing this time to raise trouble? We've been accused oftrespassing, and stealing chickens; p'raps they'll try to make out wehave evil designs on some country bank."
"It looks like a storm," admitted Tom; upon which Billy Button began tostare at the clouds in plain sight, and Horace seemed to be listeninganxiously to catch the first distant mutter of thunder in the air.
"If you are all through eating," said Mr. Witherspoon, "perhaps we hadbetter move out of this. I'm not the best judge of such things, but Ithink we could find a better spot than this to stay during the storm."
"There! listen to that, will you?" exclaimed George as they heard aheavy boom that seemed to throb on the heavily charged air like theroar of a monster siege gun.
Horace was looking a little pale, though he set his teeth hardtogether, and apparently had made up his mind to at least refrain fromshowing the white feather, no matter how frightened he felt.
They did up their packs, keeping the rubber ponchos out, according tothe advice of the patrol leader.
"At the worst we can put our heads through the slit in the center," heexplained to them; "and then it serves as a waterproof to keep theupper part of you dry. But perhaps we can find an overhanging shelf ofrock under which all of us can crawl."
"But how about that fine big tree yonder, couldn't we take shelterunder that?" asked Horace, pointing to a massive oak withwide-spreading branches that made a canopy through which even adownpour of rain could hardly penetrate.
"Never!" Tom told him hastily. "A tree standing apart like that isalways one of the most dangerous places you can select when seekingshelter from an electrical storm. Far better stay out and take yourlittle soaking than to take chances in a barn, or under an isolatedtree. In the forest it is not so bad, where there are hundreds oftrees; but then you ought to be careful which one you select. Lightningloves a shining mark, you know."
"But that big tree has stood for one or two hundred years and neverbeen hit by lightning," objected Horace, who could not understandexactly.
"So have others that I've seen shattered to fragments," Mr. Witherspoontold him, "but their time came at last, and without warning. We can'tafford to accept the risk. There is only one safe way, and that is toavoid dangerous places."
The thunder grew louder with every peal. There were vivid flashes oflightning, too, each of which caused Horace to start and close hiseyes, though he bravely suppressed the groan that seemed ready to burstfrom his lips.
Tom, as well as Mr. Witherspoon, Josh and Rob Shaefer, was constantlyon the lookout for some sign of shelter. The ground seemed to favor thepossibility of finding something in the line of overlapping lines ofrock, which, forming a mushroom ledge, would screen them from theviolence of the expected downpour.
After all, the honor of making the discovery went to Carl.
"Look over yonder between those bushes, sir; doesn't that seem to beabout the kind of place you're after?" he called out, clutching thescout master by the arm.
So impressed was Mr. Witherspoon by what he saw that he immediatelydirected all of his charges to make for the spot pell-mell. The firstbig drops were coming down as they arrived, to find that, sure enough,the ledges of stone cropped out as much as six or seven feet.
"
Crawl under wherever you can find a good place, and lie quiet!"ordered the scout master; and in several detachments they proceeded toget out of the rain, now commencing to fall heavily.
The wind rushed through the branches with a furious shriek; the thundercrashed; they heard several trees fall under the strain; and thenwithout warning came a blinding flash, with a terrific ear-splittingroar of thunder accompanying it.
Horace, who with a number of others was in the cavity Tom had chosen,shrank close to the leader of the Black Bear Patrol.
"Oh, Tom!" he cried, when his voice could be heard, "didn't that soundright from where that magnificent big oak tree stood that I wanted toget under?"
"Just what it did!" Josh Kingsley told him, vehemently, while Tom said:
"We'll investigate after the storm is over, Horace; but right now I'mof the opinion your fine oak is lying shattered into fragments by thebolt that fell!"
Boy Scouts of Lenox; Or, The Hike Over Big Bear Mountain Page 17
