lonesome here with nobody but old Uncle Hiram around."

As Joe neared the cabin something seemed to come over him and, for some
reason he could not understand, he felt very much depressed in spirits.
He quickened his pace, until a turn of the trail brought the homestead
into view.

A cry of alarm broke from his lips and with good reason. The little
shelter had stood close to a large hemlock tree. The lightning had
struck the tree, causing it to topple ever. In falling, it had landed
fairly and squarely upon the cabin, smashing it completely. One corner
of the cabin was in ashes, but the heavy rain had probably extinguished
the conflagration.

"Uncle Hiram!" cried the boy, as soon as he recovered from his
amazement. "Uncle Hiram, where are you?"

There was no answer to this call and for the moment Joe's heart seemed
to stop beating. Was the old hermit under that pile of ruins? If so it
was more than likely he was dead.

Dropping his fish and his lines, the youth sprang to the front of the
cabin. The door had fallen to the ground and before him was a mass of
wreckage with a small hollow near the bottom. He dropped on his knees
and peered inside.

"Uncle Hiram!" he called again.

There was no answer, and he listened with bated breath. Then he fancied
he heard a groan, coming from the rear of what was left of the cabin.