hipping they are getting."

The provisions had been slung in sacks from a rope strung between two
trees, about ten feet above the ground, to keep them out of reach of
Henry and other prowling animals.

"How long have you been up?" asked Grace.

"Half an hour or so. I went up to the ridge to the rear of the camp,
thinking that I had heard something unusual going on up there, but
hurried back when the rain started. What I heard must have been the
trees creaking."

They listened to the storm for several minutes, Tom Gray trying to
interpret the sounds.

"Awaken the girls!" he directed, acting upon a sudden resolution. "Get
them out as quickly as possible." Tom had heard a sound coming from the
ridge that stirred him into quick action. "Tell them to fetch the
blankets and our rifles. We mustn't lose any of those things."

"Will you call Hippy and Joe?"

"Yes, yes. Hurry!"

"Turn out!" shouted Tom at the opening of Hippy's tent. "Be lively.
Blankets and weapons with you."

"Wha--at, in this storm?" wailed Hippy.

"Better get wet than get killed," retorted Tom, springing over to Joe
Shafto's tent. Joe answered his hail with a sharp demand to know what he
wanted.

"Pile out as quickly as possible. We are likely to have trouble. And
call your bear off."

Henry was sniffing at Tom's heels and growling ominously, but he obeyed
the incisive command of his master and retired to his position in front
of her tent.

The girls, he found, were already out of their tents, blankets over
their heads, all shivering in the chill rain, all too cold to speak
except Emma Dean.

"I--I to-o-old you something was go-going to happen," she stammered.
"The v-v-v-voice of nature to-o-old me so."

"N-n-n-nature is an old fogy," jeered Hippy mockingly. "Nothing has
happened and I don't know why we have been dragged out into this rotten
storm."

"Follow me and watch your step," directed Tom tersely. He led the way to
the river and along its bank to the tethering ground. "Lead your ponies
to a safer place, further up the stream," he ordered.

This hurried departure from their camp was a good deal of a mystery to
the Overland Riders. They did not understand why, nor did Tom Gray tell
them.

"Hippy, help me tie the horses," he said, after having gone several rods
further up stream. "One at a time with the ponies, folks, then go make
yourselves as comfortable as possible under the bluff of the bank. The
bushes there will offer you m