When Grace awakened late in the night the feeling of oppression with which she had gone to sleep still lay heavy upon her. The faint soughing of a breeze in the tree tops, the light thuds of falling pine cones, were the only sounds to be heard outside of the breathing of her companions who were sleeping soundly. Suddenly her ears caught a distant roar, and a few drops of rain pattered on the tent. "It is going to storm," murmured Grace. "I hope no dead limbs fall from the trees on our camp." Pulling the blankets over her head to shut out the sounds she tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come, so Grace uncovered her head and lay listening. The wind seemed to die down for a while, but it soon sprang up with renewed strength, and was sweeping violently over the tops of the pines, which were creaking and groaning under the strain. A distant crash told of some forest giant that had gone down under the blast; then the rain fell, a deluge of it, which finally beat through the little tents and trickled down over the sleeping Overland girls. "Are you all right in there?" called Tom from the outside. "Yes, but we are getting wet. Is it going to last long?" asked Grace. "Not being able to get a view of the sky, I can't say positively. It seems like only a shower to me." "Wait a moment. I'll join you." Grace hurriedly dressed and, throwing on her rubber coat, stepped out. "I don't just like the way some of these trees are acting," said Tom. "Perhaps you haven't noticed how the ground is heaving." "Yes I have, but I did not know that it meant anything alarming." "It shows that the wind is throwing a great strain on the trees and that there is too much play in the roots for the good of the trees--and ourselves," he added. "I hope our supplies do not fall down under the whipping they are getting." The provisions had been slung in sacks from a rope strung between two trees, about ten feet above the ground, to keep them out of reach of Henry and other prowling animals. "How long have you been up?" asked Grace. "Half an hour or so. I went up to the ridge to the rear of the camp, thinking that I had heard something unusual going on up there, but hurried back when the rain started. What I heard must have been the trees creaking." They listened to the storm for several minutes, Tom Gray trying to interpret the sounds. "Awaken the girls!" he directed, acting upon a sudden resolution. "Get them out as quickly as possible." Tom had heard a sound coming from the ridge that stirred him into quick action. "Tell them to fetch the blankets and our rifles. We mustn't lose any of those things." "Will you call Hippy and Joe?" "Yes, yes. Hurry!" "Turn out!" shouted Tom at the opening of Hippy's tent. "Be lively. Blankets and weapons with you." "Wha--at, in this storm?" wailed Hippy. "Better get wet than get killed," retorted Tom, springing over to Joe Shafto's tent. Joe answered his hail with a sharp demand to know what he wanted.