"This is where the portable house has the advantage of a tent," grunted Tom. "The portable houses yonder are even equipped with some kind of rubber roofing. If this storm keeps up through the night at this rate, we'll be washed out long before daylight." "I can stand it," retorted Prescott, "as long as I know that Mrs. Bentley and the girls are protected from the weather. Yet I won't mind if the storm does let up after an hour or two." Conversation ceasing, after a time, all but Reade and Dalzell got out books to read from the slender stock of literature that they had brought with them into the woods. The heavy storm made it a dull afternoon, where there might have been so much fun. But not one of Dick & Co. had the least idea of the excitement in store for them. The storm held more than rain for many people. CHAPTER XVIII MR. PAGE'S KIND OF FATHER As though the heavy downpour did not sufficiently indicate that the storm was still raging as heavily as ever, Harry Hazelton went to the tent doorway to peer out at the sky. Just as suddenly he ducked back again. "Hist!" he called. "There's someone at our canned goods stock, and I think it's Tag!" In a twinkling Dick and Dave were by Hazelton's side. The heavy rain supplied a curtain like a light fog. "I think that's Tag!" muttered Dick. "We'll go after him." There was a quick diving into rubber coats. Dick and Dave were first to get outside. But the figure seen through the rain was already under way, heading away from the tent. This figure, just as it stole under the great trees, turned to point a sawed-off shotgun their way. "That's Tag," muttered Dick. "Come on; we'll catch him." "Yes; if he'll kindly permit us to get close to him," rejoined Darry, as he ran at Dick's side. Evidently the figure ahead had made a successful raid on the food, for he carried a gunnysack, and that appeared to have a load inside. "We can catch him---if we can run fast enough," declared Dick, for just then the fugitive darted ahead with renewed speed. "Unless he stops us with the gun," objected Dave. "Don't let him stop you with that. I don't believe he would dare use it on us." "If it's only a question of 'daring,'" responded Dave, "I don't believe there is anything that Tag Mosher would be afraid to do at a pinch." Owing to the storm it was dark in the great woods. Shadows were deceptive. Though Dick and Dave ran on at pell-mell speed they presently came to a sudden halt, looking inquiringly at each other. "Which way did that fellow go?" demanded Dave. "Blessed if I know," Dick admitted. "Are we still on the right trail, and merely a mile behind him?" "I wish I knew even that," admitted Prescott. "We might as well go back," proposed Darry. "In these woods all we'll get is---wet."