The bolt had struck in the identical spot where the previous one had landed.

“Now, young man, there’s an object lesson for you,” Mr. Kringle said, with a grim smile.

“And there’s another!” replied Chunky, pointing to the outside of the tent.

There lay the old rancher, whose absence they had not noted.  He had been in the tent with them when they last saw him and how he had gotten out there none knew.  The rancher had been stripped of every vestige of clothing by the freaky lightning.

“He’s dead,” crooned Stacy solemnly.

“Get water, quick!  He’s been struck by lightning!” commanded the guide, making systematic efforts to bring the old man back to consciousness.

Stacy ran for the water-bags.

“I am afraid it is useless, Mr. Kringle,” warned, the Professor, failing to find a pulse.  The boys were standing about fanning the victim, having one by one dumped the contents of their canteens in his face.

Stacy returned with a water-bag after a little.

“I—­ I—­ I’ve got an idea,” he exploded, as with eyes wide open he attempted to tell them something.

“Keep still.  We’ve got something else to do besides listening to your foolishness,” chided Ned.

“Chunky, we’re trying to save this man’s life.  Give me that bag,” commanded Tad.

The two older men were working desperately on the patient.  Stacy stood around, fidgeting a little, but making no further attempt to enlighten them as to what his new idea was.

After a time the rancher began to show signs of recovering.  He gasped a few times then opened his eyes.

“What kicked me?” he asked, with a half-grin.

They could all afford to laugh now, and they did.  The rancher refused their offer of clothes, saying he had another suit in his shack.

“That’s twice the stuff has knocked me out.  Next time it’ll git me for keeps,” he said.

“Does it strike here very often?” questioned the Professor.

“Allus.”

“Then, there must be some mineral substance in the soil.”

“No, ain’t nothing like that.  Jest contrariness that’s all.  Hit my shack once, and ’cause ’twas raining, bored holes in the roof so the place got all wet inside.”

“But it isn’t raining now.  Doesn’t it usually rain when you have a thunder storm here?” asked the Professor.

“No.  Ain’t had no rain in nigh onto two year,” the hermit reiterated.

“You’d better go and put on some clothes,” suggested Kris Kringle.

“Guess that’s right.”

The old man seemed to have forgotten his condition.  The others had wrapped a blanket around him, which seemed to satisfy his demand for clothes.  Gathering up the blanket he strolled leisurely toward his cabin, undisturbed by his recent experience.

“Nothing like getting used to it,” chuckled Stacy.

“Hello, now we’ll hear what your new idea is, Chunky?” jeered Ned.