I feared," shouted Mr Pepson, now quite calm. "There
will be many more before the storm is ended. But I fancy we are safe.
They will not always fall so close to us."

Dick looked out into the jungle, his face calm and grave, though in his
heart he felt terribly afraid. For this was something against which one
could not battle. The storm would have its way whatever man might do,
and to stand there utterly helpless, was trying. All round him he could
hear the crash of trees. One fell even closer than the first, and
caused him to step backward in alarm, for the mighty trunk was dropping
directly towards him, sheering through everything that stood in its way.
It lopped the tops from half a dozen cotton trees, and brought two more
crashing through the forest with it. Then, as Dick thought that he and
his companions must be destroyed, its branches became entangled in those
of the tree which sheltered them. Again he felt the vast mass sway.
The trunk actually gave out a loud report as if it had cracked. But it
was a veteran, and, thanks to its huge girth, was of unusual strength.
It stood its ground, and when Dick looked again there was the falling
tree held up in midair, with its two victims with it. It was a
marvellous escape.

"That is the worst, I should say," said Mr Pepson, coolly. "It was a
narrow shave, I admit, but then I was expecting trouble. We are lucky,
I can tell you, and you will realise the fact as we push on again. Ah!
here comes the rain. I fancy we may congratulate ourselves."

They had indeed every cause to be thankful, for their escape had been a
narrow one. An hour later, when they emerged from the friendly shelter
of the tree and struck out on the path once more, all realised this more
fully. For hundreds of giants had fallen. Their trunks lay in every
direction, many fantastically supported in mid-air, pillowed on the
branches of their fellows.

"That is what one sees all along the coast," said Mr Pepson, turning
his head, "and I am told that some of the caravan routes which pass
through this forest toward the interior are often almost completely
blocked by fallen trees. It is the weedy youngsters that tumble. They
run up swiftly, as straight as a rod, till they overtop the veterans.
Then comes a gale, and owing to the nature of the ground and the little
hold which their roots give them, they topple over. We've had a lesson,
Dick. Keep out of forests in future when the wind blo