But now she was moaning, and rocking herself to and fro, and it was
some moments before they could get a sensible word out of her.

"Oh! oh! oh!" wailed Liz. "I want to go back to town. I don't like
this place a little bit--no, I don't! Oh, oh!"

"Stop your noise, Liz!" exclaimed Jess, suddenly exasperated. "You
can't go back while it is storming so. And when it stops you won't
want to."

But Laura was worried. She looked all about the tent. What had the
Barnacle barked so about?

Nor was he satisfied now. The storm held up after a time; but the dog
kept rushing out and barking as though he had just remembered that
there had been a prowler about, and he had not had a chance to chase
him.

Laura understood that rain, or wet, killed the scent for dogs and like
trailing animals. This that had disturbed the Barnacle must have been
a person who had come very close.

They took Liz to the cabin, and left her there after the storm was
over and the six Central High girls went to their own tent. But
although Laura did not say much about it, she was as dissatisfied as
the dog seemed to be.

In the morning she was up earlier than anybody else in the camp. The
grass and brush was drenched with the rain. There were puddles here
and there. The sun was not yet up and it would take several hours of
his best work to dry up the wet places.

Laura had not won her nickname of "Mother Wit" for nothing. She had
inventiveness; likewise she had a sane and sensible way of looking at
almost any mysterious happening. She did not get scared as Nellie did,
or ignore a surprising thing, as Jess did.

Now she was dissatisfied with the outcome of Liz Bean's "conniption,"
as Bobby had termed it the evening before. The maid-of-all-work had
shown no fear of thunder and lightning when the tempest began and the
other girls were frightened.

Then, why should she wait until the storm was nearly over before
showing all the marks of extreme terror? And, in addition, Liz seemed
to be fairly speechless about the matter, whereas she was naturally an
extremely garrulous person.

"Why did the Barnacle bark so?" demanded Laura, when she stood,
shivering, in the gray light of dawn before the cook-tent. "Not just
for the fun of hearing his own voice, I am sure."

The ground before the cook-tent was soft, and trampled by the girls'
own feet. Laura went carefully around to the rear, stepping on firm
ground so as to leave no marks.

There was a rear op