They listened, and above the whistling of the wind heard a great crash.
"It's a tree being blown down!" cried Phil. "Come on, let us get between the rocks, before something hits us on the head!"
Much alarmed, both boys leaped for the shelter of the rocks, and in the darkness felt their way until they reached a split that was seven or eight feet deep and a foot wide at the bottom and twice that at the top.
"I guess this is as good a place as any, Phil," remarked Dave, when he had regained his breath sufficiently to speak.
"It won't be much protection if it rains hard," grumbled the shipowner's son.
"Well, I don't see that we can do better."
"Neither do I."
Further conversation was cut off by the wind and the rain. The former shrieked and whistled through the woods, sending down branch after branch with tremendous crashes that awed the boys completely. The rain was light, but the drops were large and hit them with stinging force.
For fully half an hour the blow continued, and then it appeared to let up and the rain stopped entirely.
"Shall we go on?" questioned Phil, standing up and trying to pierce the darkness around them.
"Better hold up a while, Phil," answered Dave.
