We went to bed as usual, but at about one o’clock we were awakened by a long rolling peal of thunder.  Already big drops of rain were beginning to fall.  Ollie and I looked out, and found Jack creeping from under the wagon.

“That’s a dry-weather bedroom of mine,” he observed, “and I think I’ll come up-stairs.”

The flashes of lightning followed each other rapidly, and by them we could see the horses.  Old Browny was sleeping and Old Blacky eating, but the pony stood with head erect, very much interested in the storm.  Jack helped Snoozer into the wagon, and came in himself.  We drew both ends of the cover as close as possible, lit the lantern, and made ourselves comfortable, while Jack took down his banjo and tried to play.  Jack always tried to play, but never quite succeeded.  But he made a considerable noise, and that was better than nothing.

The wind soon began to blow pretty fresh, and shake the cover rather more than was pleasant.  But. nothing gave way, and after, as it seemed, fifty of the loudest claps of thunder we had ever heard, the rain began to fall in torrents.

“That is what I’ve been waiting for,” said Jack.  “Now we’ll see if there’s a good cover on this wagon, or if we’ve got to put a sod roof on it, like that man’s house.”

The rain kept coming down harder and harder, but though there seemed to be a sort of a light spray in the air of the wagon, the water did not beat through.  In some places along the bows it ran down on the inside of the cover in little clinging streams, but as a household we remained dry.  Jack was still experimenting on the banjo, and the dog had gone to sleep.  Suddenly a flash of lightning dazzled our eyes as if there were no cover at all over and around us, with a crash of thunder which struck our ears like a blow from a fist.  Jack dropped the banjo, and the dog shook his head as if his ears tingled.  We all felt dizzy, and the wagon seemed to be swaying around.

[Illustration:  Investigations]

“That struck pretty close,” I said.  “I hope it didn’t hit one of the horses.”  “If it hit Old Blacky, I’ll bet a cooky it got the worst of it,” answered Jack, taking up his banjo again.  “Look out, Ollie, and maybe you’ll see the lightning going off limping.”

It was still raining, though not so hard.  Soon we began to hear a peculiar noise, which seemed to come from behind the wagon.  It was a breaking, splintering sort of noise, as if a board was being smashed and split up very gradually.

“Sounds as if a slow and lazy kind of lightning was striking our wagon,” said Jack.

Ollie’s face was still white from the scare at the stroke of lightning, and his eyes now opened very wide as he listened to the mysterious noise.  Jack pulled open the back cover an inch and peeped out.  Then he said: 

“I guess Old Blacky’s tussle with the lightning left him hungry; he’s eating up one side of the feed-box.”