gone ten steps. The wind almost blew them off their feet and black
darkness settled down over the woods. They could just see the outlines
of the trees as they staggered on, a blinding rain drenching them to the
skin.

Tom divided the party into two sections, four in one and five in the
other. They were to hold each other's hands tightly and keep together.
Frequent flashes of lightning revealed the woods in a tremendous state
of agitation and it seemed better to be moving than to stand still and
watch the terrifying spectacle.

On they stumbled, but suddenly came to grief, for the four in front fell
headlong over a tree that had been blown across the path, and the other
five hearing their cries of warning too late, followed after.

By the time they had picked themselves up the storm had grown so furious
that they could only press miserably together and wait for it to pass.

Suddenly Tom amazed them all by putting his hands to his mouth and
blowing a strange kind of hollow whistle that sounded like the note of a
trumpet.

He repeated the whistle again and again. "You may not believe it," he
said between calls, "but the hunter who taught me this, told me never to
use it unless I was in dire need. Then help of some sort would surely
come. It is called the Elf's Horn."

"Did you ever try it before," asked Reddy curiously.

"No," he answered, "I never did. I suppose it's only superstition, but