h is going
to let fly at us with big shot, little shot, fire and water--all the
forces the old scoundrel has," said Herb Heal, at last breaking the
silence which had been kept on the trail, and looking aloft towards the
five peaks guarding that mysterious basin, from which heavy, lurid
clouds drifted down.

At the same time a blustering, mighty wind-gust half swept the four
climbers from their feet. A great flash of globe lightning cut the air
like a dazzling fire-ball.

"We'll have to quit our trailing, and scoot for shelter, I'm thinking!"
exclaimed Cyrus.

"Good land, I should say so!" agreed the guide. "The bull-moose likes
thunder. He's away in some thick hole in the forest now, recovering
himself. We couldn't have come up with him anyhow, boys, for them
blood-spots had stopped. I guess his leg wasn't smashed; and he'll soon
be as big a bully as ever. Follow me now, quick! Mind yer steps, though!
Them bushes are awful catchy!"

Undazzled by the lightning's frequent flare, unstaggered by the
down-rushing wind, as if the mountain thunders were only the roll of an
organ about his ears, Herb Heal sprang onward and upward, tugging his
comrades one by one up many a precipitous ledge, and pulling them to
their feet again when the tripping bushes brought their noses to the
ground and their heels into the air.

"Hitch on to me, Dol!" he cried, suddenly turning on that youngster, who
was trying to get his second breath. "Tie on to me tight. I'll tow you
up! I wish we could ha' reached that old log camp, boys. 'Twould be a
stunning shelter, for it has a wall of rock to the back. But it's higher
up, and off to the right. There! I see the den I'm aiming for."

A few energetic bounds brought Herb, with Dol in tow, to a platform of
rock, which rose above a bed of blueberry bushes. It narrowed into a
sort of cave, roofed by an overhanging bowlder.

"We'll be snug enough under this rock!" he exclaimed, pointing to the
canopy. "Creep in, boys. We'll have tubs of rain, and a pelting of hail.
The rumpus is only beginning."

So it was. The storm had been creeping from its cradle. Now it swept
down with an awful whirl and commingling of elements.

The boys, peering out from their rocky nest, saw a magnificent panorama
beneath them. The regiments of the air were at war. Lightning chains
encircled the heavens, lighting up the forests below. Winds charged down
the mountain-side, sweeping stones and bushes before them. Hail-bulle