Turning the car, he drove swiftly back again.  In about twenty minutes he reached a part of the road directly above the camp.

Overhead the lightning was flashing brightly.  Heavy thunder followed each flash.  Large drops of rain were falling, but Fred, bent on his evil errand, did not mind.  At any rate he was not afraid of lightning.  Aided by the flashes he searched along the side of the road until he found a branch of a tree that he shaped into a club with his knife.

“I won’t wake Prescott’s muckers,” he reflected, “and I want to be sure to attract the dog’s notice if he is on guard.”

A broad, white streak of lightning showed the tent from the road as Ripley, armed with the club, drew nearer to it.

Fred halted.  “They’re all asleep, the muckers!” he muttered.  “I’m glad of that.  Where is that dog?  Why doesn’t he come around?  I’m ready for him now.”

Fred stole stealthily along, keeping a sharp lookout for the bull-dog.

Suddenly the sky was rent by a vivid flash of lightning so glaring that the lawyer’s son covered his eyes with his hands.

Bang!  Crash!  Almost instantly the thunder followed the flash.

“It’s time to be getting out of here if I don’t want to get drowned on the way back to the hotel,” Ripley decided.  “I’ll have to postpone getting square with Prescott.  Besides, the storm will waken those fellows and I don’t want to be caught here.”

There came another flash, that descended near the water.  The crashing noise of the thunder came at the same instant.

Fred, facing the tent, saw the bolt strike the ridge pole.  Evidently the current ran down one of the poles, for he saw the bluish white electric fluid running over the ground, coming from inside the tent.  The tent sagged, then fell.

“Gracious!” shivered this evil traveler of the night.  “It will be a wonder if that bolt didn’t stretch them all out.  I wonder if it killed Dick Prescott and his crowd?”

Uncontrollable curiosity seized upon Fred. Turning about he ran toward the tent.  Violently he tugged at the canvas.  As he lifted it another sharp flash showed him the six Gridley High School boys lying motionless in a row.

“The lightning did finish them!” gasped young Ripley, overcome with fright and awe.

CHAPTER XXII

FRED IS GRATEFUL—–­ONE SECOND!

For some moments Fred Ripley stood there, spellbound, regarding the still figures of Dick & Co. with fascinated fear.

Most of the time he stood in darkness, but as the flashes of lightning came he again saw the six motionless figures.  Even the fearful crashes of thunder failed to arouse the sleepers.

“Oh, this is grewsome!” gasped Ripley at last, the coward in him coming to the surface strongly.  “I can’t stand this any longer!”

Unconsciously he spoke aloud, his voice rising to a wail.  Then as he let the folds of canvas fall, a voice inside called angrily: