g everything before it.
The other two boys leaped out to help their chums. The shelter
flap was made secure at last, the ropes being made fast to the
surrounding trees.

By this time the wind was blowing at the rate of fifty miles an
hour. The sky was nearly as black as on a dark night, while the
rain was coming down "like another Niagara," as Harry Hazelton
put it.

"We don't care whether we have a dry tent or not, now," laughed
Dan Dalzell, as the six boys made a break for cover. "We're soaking,
anyway, and a little more water won't hurt."

"I'll get a fire going in the stove," Dick smiled. "Soon after
that we'll be dry enough---if the tent holds."

The stove was already in place, a sheet-iron pipe running up one
of the tent walls and out through a circular opening in the canvas
of the side wall opposite from the wind.

While Dick was making the fire, Tom Reade filled, trimmed and
lighted the two lanterns.

"Listen to the storm!" chuckled Prescott. "But we're comfy and
cheery enough. Now, peel off your outer clothes and spread them
on the campstools to dry by the fire. We'll soon be feeling as
cheery as though we were traveling in a Pullman car."

Within a short time all six were dry and happy. The lightning
had come closer and closer, until now it flashed directly overhead,
followed by heavy explosions of thunder.

Not one of the boys could remember a time when it had ever rained
as hard before. It seemed to them as though solid sheets of water
were coming down. Yet the position of the tent, aided by the
ditches, kept their floor dry. Dan, peering out through the canvas
doorway, reported that the ditches were running water at full
capacity.

"This will all be over in an hour," hazarded Greg.

"It may, and it may not be," Dick rejoined. "My own guess is
that the storm will last for hours."

As the howling wind gained in intensity it seemed as though the
tent must be blown to ribbons, but stout canvas will stand
considerable weather strain.

"If we had driven the wooden pins for the guy-ropes," muttered
Greg, "everyone of them would have been washed loose by this time."

"They would have been," Dick assented, "and the tent would now
be down upon our heads, a drenched wreck. As it is, I think we
can pull through a night of bad weather."

In an hour the flashes of lightning had become less frequent.
The wind had abated slightly, but there was no cessation of the
downpour.

"I pity anyo