flat field, the drops seemed to form into streams, and they breasted the
tempest breathless, blown about, and drenched to the skin.

"We've got to get shelter somewhere," declared Bob. "Let's put back for the
timber."

"I think I see some kind of a building ahead," observed Frank. "Yes, it's a
hut or a barn. Hustle, now, and we'll find cover till the worst of this is
over."

In a few minutes they came to an old cabin standing near some dead trees.
It was small and square and had one door and one window. Bob banged at the
door with a billet of wood he found, but could not budge it. The windows
had stout bars crisscrossing it.

"Give it up," he said at last. "No one living here, and padlocked as if it
was a bank. Hey, Frank, here's a chance."

In veering to the partial shelter of the lee side of the old structure, Bob
had noticed a sashless aperture answering for a window in the low attic of
the cabin. He got a hold with fingers and toes in the chinks between the
logs, and steadily climbed up.

"Come on," he called. "It's high and dry under the roof," and his companion
joined him, both half reclining across a loose board floor.

"Hear that," said Bob, as the rain seemed to strike the roof in bucket-like
volume. "I hope the crowd who got us in this fix are ten miles from any
shelter."