himself mixed up in
the canvas of the tent which had fallen in a heap; for evidently he was
of the opinion that all this racket must be caused by those vindictive
workers of evil, Ted Slavin and his crowd.

"Look to your tent pins, fellows!" shouted Paul, lustily, as he hurried
around to lend what assistance lay in his power.

He had little fear about his own tent, understanding just how it had
been put up. But all of the scouts were not so well versed in the little
tricks known to those who spend much time under canvas; and there was a
chance that others would share the sad fate that had already befallen
poor William.

Then there was a great scurrying to and fro. As the storm broke the boys
shuddered and held on to the ropes for dear life, regardless of the fact
that they were clad only in pajamas, which were soon rain soaked.

"Never mind that little thing, fellows," sang out the care-free
Bobolink; "because you know we can get plenty of dry clothes after she's
over; but if you let the tents blow away, where, oh! where do we come
in? Hold hard, everybody; here comes another bluff at us. Wow! get a
grip on my legs, will you? I'm agoin' to fly, that's what!"

But some of his mates held on doggedly, and Bobolink consented to remain
on earth a while longer. As long as it lasted it was one of the greatest
short storms most of the scouts could remember ever experiencing. But
then, up to now, they had been pretty much in the habit of viewing such
convulsions of nature from the shelter of a snug harbor in the shape of
a home window; and things looked vastly different when the same Summer
gale was met, with tents threatening to carry away, and the trees
groaning in the furious wind.

"She's over!" cried Jack, at last, when the storm seemed to come to a
halt almost as suddenly as it had broken.

No one was sorry. Repairs were quickly undertaken, after the boys had
donned some dry clothes; for the air was chilly after the rain, and
being soaked to the skin they found themselves shivering.

William had managed to crawl out from under his tent, with the help of
others. He had several bumps to prove what a close call it had been. The
others could not lose a chance to poke fun at him; for it was not often
the opportunity came when the fun-maker of the troop could be caught
napping.

"Next time, get a move on you, old slow poke!" one advised, when William
ventured to complain that it was mean in their deserting him to his