The fall was a bad one, and Larry's back might have been broken had not both Striker and Hobson interfered and hauled Oleson off.
"Lat go me!" screamed the Norwegian. "Lat go!"
"I will—when you promise to behave yourself," returned Striker. "You're a nice brute to tackle a mere boy like Larry."
"Lat go! I report you to de captain."
"Do it, and welcome," were Striker's words, and giving a sudden twist, he threw Oleson down and sat upon him. The Norwegian squirmed and fumed, but all to no purpose.
How far the quarrel might have gone there is no telling. But now an interruption came—an interruption so terrible that for the time being all else was forgotten.
As I have mentioned, the rain and wind were both high, but up to this time the electrical disturbances in the sky—so common to this locality—had been comparatively insignificant. Now, however, there came without an instant's warning a blinding flash of lightning which blazed upon every part of the Columbia, followed instantly by a crack of thunder which to Larry sounded like the crack of doom.
