it had been raining at Temple Camp, and the ground was soggy
from the continuous downpour. The thatched roofs of the more primitive
type of cabins looked bedrabbled, like the hair of a bather emerging
from the lake, and the more substantial shelters were crowded with the
overflow from these and from tents deserted by troops and patrols that
had been almost drowned out.
The grub boards out under the elm trees had been removed to the main
pavilion. The diving springboard was submerged by the swollen lake, the
rowboats rocked logily, half full of water, and the woods across the
lake looked weird and dim through the incessant stream of rain, rain,
rain.
The spring which supplied the camp and for years had been content to
bubble in its modest abode among the rocks, burst forth from its shady
and sequestered prison and came tumbling, roaring down out of the woods,
like some boisterous marauder, and rushed headlong into the lake.
Being no respecter of persons, the invader swept straight through the
cabin of the Silver Fox Patrol, and the Silver Fox Patrol took up their
belongings and went over to the pavilion where they sat along the deep
veranda with others, their chairs tilted back, watching the gloomy scene
across the lake.
"This is good weather for the race," said Roy Blakeley.
"What race?" demanded Pee-wee Harris.
"The human race. No sooner said than stung. It's good weather to study
monotony."
"All we can do is eat," said Pee-wee.
"Right the first time," Roy responded. "There's only one thing you don't
like about meals and that's the time between them."
"What are we going to do for two hours, waiting for supper?" a scout
asked.
"Search _me_," said Roy; "tell riddles, I guess. If we had some ham we'd
have some ham and eggs, if we only had some eggs. We should worry. It's
going to rain for forty-eight hours and three months more. That's what
that scout from Walla-Walla told me."
"That's a dickens of a name for a city," said Westy Martin of Roy's
patrol.
"It's a nice place, they liked it so much they named it twice," Roy
said.
"There's a troop here all the way from Salt Lake," said Dorry Benton.
"They ought to have plenty of pep," said Roy.
"There's a troop came from Hoboken, too," Will Dawson observed.
"I don't blame them," Roy said. "There's a troop coming from Kingston
next week. They've got an Eagle Scout, I understand."
"Don't you suppose I know that?" Pee-wee shouted. "Uncle Jeb
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