"I don't suppose I can forcibly eject you," admitted Mr. Rudd.

"No, I think not. I may not be as muscular as our friend Ferry, but I
haven't given up my morning exercise before my cold plunge since I left
college, and I'm in fair shape to hold my own with whoever attempts to
take this hammock away from me. Go back to your room, please, Mr. Rudd.
I never was more comfortable in my life."

To prove it, Jarvis went promptly to sleep, and nearly every one else did
the same. Mrs. Burnside was awake for some time, but she, too, fell
asleep at last, leaving only one pair of wide-awake eyes in the tent.
Sally, for some unknown reason, could not feel the first inclination to
repose. She was up and sitting on a pillow beside her open tent flap,
gazing out into the night, when she heard a singular noise.

It was like the distant roar of the sea, but there was no sea within many
miles. It did not sound in the least like wind, yet wind it must be, she
thought, and in the space of a half minute the roar had so gained in
volume that it appeared to be approaching with great rapidity. Sally rose
and peered up toward the sky, for usually she could see a small patch of
it beyond the grove. But she could discern no appearance of the sky,
although a few minutes before the stars had been shining brilliantly.

She had no time within which to take any further observations. Before she
had fairly begun to wonder what might be coming, and to tell herself that
she had heard no growl of thunder and that therefore this could not be
the approach of one of those severe electrical storms with which a
period of intense heat sometimes terminates, the thing had happened. With
a burst, a tremendous blast of wind struck the tent. It swayed and