them to get wet than for us.'

'We ain't cut a trench,' said Chippy.

'To carry off the water,' cried Dick. 'No, we haven't. But we can dig
that from cover, just round the patch we want to sit on.'

They went to work with their knives, and cut a trench six inches deep
round the pile of bedding on which they were seated, and then had no
fear of being flooded out with rain-water.

Down came the rain faster and heavier. The whole air was filled with
the hissing, rushing noise of the great drops falling on the trees, the
bushes, the open ground, but the scouts sat tight under their blanket
lean-to, and fed the fire steadily from the heap of sticks and stems
which the Raven had piled up.

'Weasels for weather-prophets for me arter this,' grunted Chippy; and
Dick nodded his head.

'It was my Uncle Jim who told me that about the weasels,' said Dick.
'He said they're always very active before stormy weather.'

'Just about fits it this time, anyway,' remarked the Raven. The
mention of Mr. Elliott brought to mind their chums in Bardon.

'I wonder how our patrols are getting on without us, Chippy?' said Dick.

'Oh, it'll gie the corporals a chance to try their 'ands at leadin','
returned the Raven. 'I wish they could just see us now. They'd gie
their skins to jine us.'

'Rather,' laughed Dick; 'this is just about all right.'

It is possible that some persons might not have agreed with him, and at
one o'clock in the morning might have preferred their beds to squatting
on a heap of brushwood under the shelter of a blanket, the hissing fire
making the only cheery spot in the blackness of the cloud- and
rain-wrapped moorland. But the scouts would not have changed their
situation for quarters in Buckingham Palace. There was the real touch
about this. It seemed almost as romantic as a bivouac on a battlefield.

'Well, s'pose we try for a bit more sleep,' said the prudent Raven;
'long march to-morrer, yer know.'

'We've got to keep the fire up,' said Dick; 'it would never do to let
that out.'

'O' course not,' replied Chippy; 'we must take turns to watch. Now,
who gets fust sleep--long or short?'

He held up two twigs which he had plucked from the bedding; the ends
were concealed in his hand.

'Short gets first sleep,' said Dick.

'Aw' right,' replied the Raven; 'you draw.'

Dick drew, and found he had the long draw.

'Wot's the time?' asked Chippy.

'Just turned one.'

'Right; then I'll sleep till th