This appeared the best thing to do, and they crawled back into the
crevice and partly under the tree. Here the thick branches protected the
lads, so that but little rain reached them.
A dismal hour went by, and then the storm came to an end. The wind died
down into a gentle breeze and the rain was reduced to a few scattering
drops, to which they paid no attention.
"If only that wind didn't blow the shack down on the other folks'
heads," said Dave. He was thinking of how frightened the girls, and
especially Jessie, must have been.
"I'll wager the trail is now a mass of mud and water," said Phil, and he
was right, and as they progressed, they frequently got into the mud up
to their ankles.
It was eleven o'clock when they gained the edge of the woods and came
out on the plains. The sky was still overcast, only a few stars being
faintly visible.
"Are you sure of the right direction, Dave?" asked the shipowner's son,
as both paused to look around.
"I think this is the trail, Phil, don't you?" and Dave pointed with his
finger to a deep rut in the soil.
"Yes. But that doesn't make it right," and Phil gazed around in some
perplexity.
"What do you mean? This is the only trail around here."
"So I see. But, somehow, this edge of the woods doesn't look familiar to
me.
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