"Perhaps, lad; some storms up here on the mountain are about as bad as
they make 'em," was the grave reply.

CHAPTER XXV

CAUGHT IN A STORM

"Say, but this is sure going to be a corker!"

Dave shouted out the words--to make himself heard above the whistling of
the wind as it blew across the little plateau on the mountainside, where
the party had gone into camp.

It was half an hour later, and during that time the oncoming storm had
approached steadily. At first the wind had come in fitful gusts, bending
the scant brushwood among the rocks first in one direction and then
another. This had been followed by a sudden dash of rain, and for a few
minutes they had hoped that the worst of the downpour would pass to the
south of them. But then had come a sudden turn, and now the rain was
descending on them in torrents, driven in a slanting direction by the
wind, which showed no signs of abating.

"I should say it was a corker!" returned Roger, as he brushed the water
from his face and peered beyond the rocks. To get out of that driving
downfall was impossible.

"I wish we were in that cave," cried Phil. "We'd be as dry as a bone in
there."

"Not if the roof leaked," returned the senator's son, grimly. "Besides,
somehow I don't think it would be safe."

"Why not?"

"The rain might wash down some of the rocks forming the roof."

"Pooh! they have stayed up so long, I guess they would stay up a little
longer," grumbled Phil.

"No sech cave for me," broke in Abe Blower. "The rain makes 'em too
dangerous. I was in a mine onct when it rained like this, an', fust
thing we knew, about a hundred tons o' rocks slid down, almost buryin'
us alive!"

"We'll stay where we are," said Tom Dillon. "The storm won't last
forever."

As the night came on, and the storm continued, the boys felt anything
but comfortable. Building a campfire was out of the question, for the
rain made a dense smoke which the wind swirled all around them, setting
them to coughing and the horses to snorting. The animals were as much
alarmed as their masters.

"Might as well save your firewood, boys," said Abe Blower. "You'll need
it, to dry out by, arfter the rain stops."

"If it ever does stop," grumbled Phil. Rain was Phil's great bugbear
when he was on any kind of an outing.

At midnight the rain was coming down as steadily as ever. But the strong
wind had died down somewhat, so by remaining close to some overhanging
rocks they were mo