Her three companions screamed with terror.  Harriet was silent.  She was listening to the terrifying sounds, straining every nerve to the task, fully expecting to be blotted out of existence at any second.  She felt the first result of the falling tent when a flood of water that had rained down on the tent floor splashed into her face and over her body.  Everything seemed to cave in.  Some of the larger limbs of the tree struck the floor of the tent so close to the cots that the girls under them were paralyzed with fear for a few awful seconds.

It seemed to them that the crashings and crunchings never would cease.  But they finally did.  The girls then realized that the air was close and that it was insufferably hot where they were.

“Is—­is it all over?” gasped Cora.

“Yes, I hope so,” answered Harriet in a matter of fact voice.

“Wha-at was it?” questioned Patricia in a smothered tone.

“The old pine tree fell.  It was fortunate for us that we were in the centre of the tent, for the trunk of the tree is kept from us by the branches that are resting in the tent and on the ground at each side.  But girls, we must get out of here.  Is any one of you hurt?”

The girls replied in the negative.  How to get free of the tent was a problem.  The canvas roof was drawn taut over their haven of safety.  The air in their strange prison was getting very close.

“Oh, let’s get out of this awful place,” moaned Cora.

“We must wait a little,” answered Harriet.  “You lie perfectly still.  I will try to get some fresh air in here.  Oh, I wish I had a knife,” she added as her groping hands came in contact with the canvas over which she was searching for some little opening into which she could insert a finger and tear the canvas.  A moment later Harriet uttered a glad little exclamation.  She had found the opening that she was searching for.  She ripped the canvas after great effort, for the cloth was tough.  Then to her dismay she found a great fold of the canvas on the other side of the opening thus made.  All her labor had been fruitless.

Harriet raised her voice in a shout for assistance.  The cry was muffled and could not possibly have reached far.  Their positions were growing more and more desperate.  Harriet Burrell’s three companions were so firmly held by the weight of the cots over them, that they were barely able to move.  Harriet being near the edge of the heap had a little more freedom.  Of this she was taking full advantage, wriggling desperately to enlarge the space about her, seeking here and there for an opening through which she might crawl in order to make a way for her companions, who were now crying hysterically.  Patricia, however, was more calm than any of the others save Harriet herself.

All at once, the girl became conscious of a confused murmur of voices that seemed to come from some distance away.  She shouted again and again.  At last her calls were answered.