“By Jove,” panted Dan, “I’ll bet we’re in for a wetting!”
“Well, I haven’t got anything on that will spoil,” laughed Nelson.
And then a few big drops pattered down on the leaves.
It was a veritable torrent that lashed aside the leaves and pelted the boys with great hissing drops. For a moment they stumbled on through the darkness. Then there was a blinding flash of white light, and a crash of thunder seemed to shake the mountain from top to bottom. As though by mutual consent, they dived beneath a clump of underbrush and huddled up out of the worst of the storm.
“Me too,” answered Nelson. “It was kind of sudden.”
“I should say so! I don’t suppose there’s much use in our staying here, though. We can’t get much wetter by going on.”
“And there isn’t much use in going on,” answered Nelson. “I’ll bet the others have given up the chase by this time. Besides, our paper’s about soaked through, I guess. I vote we hike up over the mountain and get home.”
“Seems to me we’d better go back the way we came.”
“It will be lots nearer if we strike up hill here. It’ll be hard going until we reach the top, but easy going down the other side. We ought to strike the road about half-way between the pond and the village. Perhaps we’ll find a place where we can get out of the wet. Anyhow, there’s no use staying here. I’m getting wetter and wetter every minute, and there’s a regular cascade running down my back. Here, let’s empty out this fool paper and stuff the bags in our pockets.”
“All right,” answered Nelson; and the paper chase came to an ignominious finish then and there.
It was tough work climbing that slope in the face of a blinding torrent, but they struggled upward, slipping and stumbling and panting. The lightning had become almost continuous, and the thunder did its part with might and main. What with the darkness of the sky and the gloom of the forest, there was very little light to go by; and as the rain forced them to close their eyes half the time, they were continually butting into trees, tangling themselves up in the undergrowth or stumbling over dead branches.
“This is a deuce of a note!” grumbled Dan as he picked himself up for the fifth or sixth time, and tried to dry his wet hands on his wetter trousers. “I’d give a dollar for an umbrella!”