protected him partly from the terrific beat of the rain which came down
through the treetops in a flood. It was now so black that except when
the lightning ripped great holes in the gloom he could not see the
spruce trunks twenty feet away. Twice that distance from Baree there
was a huge dead stub that stood out like a ghost each time the fires
swept the sky, as if defying the flaming hands up there to strike--and
strike, at last, one of them did! A bluish tongue of snapping flame ran
down the old stub; and as it touched the earth, there came a tremendous
explosion above the treetops. The massive stub shivered, and then it
broke asunder as if cloven by a gigantic ax. It crashed down so close
to Baree that earth and sticks flew about him, and he let out a wild
yelp of terror as he tried to crowd himself deeper into the shallow
hole under the root.

With the destruction of the old stub the thunder and lightning seemed
to have vented their malevolence. The thunder passed on into the south
and east like the rolling of ten thousand heavy cart wheels over the
roofs of the forest, and the lightning went with it. The rain fell
steadily. The hole in which he had taken shelter was partly filled with
water. He was drenched. His teeth chattered as he waited for the next
thing to happen.

It was a long wait. When the rain finally stopped, and the sky cleared,
it was night. Through the tops of the trees Baree could have seen the
stars if he had poked out his head and looked upward. But he clung to
his hole. Hour after hour passed. Exhausted, half drowned, footsore,
and hungry, he did not move. At last he fell into a troubled sleep, a
sleep in which every now and then he cried softly and forlornly for his
mother. When he ventured out from under the root it was morning, and
the sun was shining.