"I don't like a wind storm—when I am in a big woods like this," answered the shipowner's son. "I am always afraid a tree will come down on me."
"Well, we have got to look out for that—if we can," answered Dave, gravely. "I don't like it myself, but it can't be helped."
They continued on their way. The wind increased rapidly, and soon it grew so dark they could see little or nothing under the thickest of the trees. They came to an open space, and there the wind struck them with great force, almost hurling them flat.
"Say, I think—we had—had better wait a—a bit!" panted Phil, as he clutched Dave by the arm.
"Let us get over to yonder rocks," answered Dave. "We'll be a little safer there than between the trees."
Hand in hand the chums crossed the glade and made for a series of rocks looming between the trees beyond. The wind was now blowing with almost tornado force, and with it came a few scattering drops of rain. Just as they gained the rocks something whizzed past their heads.
"What was that?" gasped Phil, ducking after the object had passed.
"It was a small tree limb," answered Dave. "We've got to watch out. Hark!"
