Next they took their blankets, and hung them side by side over the cross-bar, one overlapping the other by a couple of feet. With their knives they cut a number of pegs from the hard gorse stems, and sharpened them, and drove them through the blankets into the bar, pinning the blankets tightly in place. The tough gorse-wood went into the soft rail like nails, and the back of the tomahawk made a splendid hammer. They had a fourth rail, and they pegged the other ends of the blankets down to that, drew it backwards, and there was a lean-to beneath which they leapt with shouts of triumph. 'Done th' old rain this time,' yelled the Raven. 'Now we'll keep a rousin' fire goin', and sit here and listen to it.' There was, luckily, no wind, or the scouts might not have been so jubilant; it was a heavy summer rain, pouring down strong and straight. The boys were pretty wet before they had got their shelter rigged up, but the fire was strong and warm, though it hissed vigorously as the heavy drops fell from the branches of the fir. 'Any chance of putting the fire out, do you think?' said Dick. 'Not if we keep plenty o' stuff on it,' replied his chum. 'Hark 'ow it's patterin' on the blankets!' 'They'll be jolly wet, and take some drying,' said Dick. 'Still, better for them to get wet than for us.' 'We ain't cut a trench,' said Chippy. 'To carry off the water,' cried Dick. 'No, we haven't. But we can dig that from cover, just round the patch we want to sit on.' They went to work with their knives, and cut a trench six inches deep round the pile of bedding on which they were seated, and then had no fear of being flooded out with rain-water. Down came the rain faster and heavier. The whole air was filled with the hissing, rushing noise of the great drops falling on the trees, the bushes, the open ground, but the scouts sat tight under their blanket lean-to, and fed the fire steadily from the heap of sticks and stems which the Raven had piled up. 'Weasels for weather-prophets for me arter this,' grunted Chippy; and Dick nodded his head. 'It was my Uncle Jim who told me that about the weasels,' said Dick. 'He said they're always very active before stormy weather.' 'Just about fits it this time, anyway,' remarked the Raven. The mention of Mr. Elliott brought to mind their chums in Bardon. 'I wonder how our patrols are getting on without us, Chippy?' said Dick. 'Oh, it'll gie the corporals a chance to try their 'ands at leadin',' returned the Raven. 'I wish they could just see us now. They'd gie their skins to jine us.' 'Rather,' laughed Dick; 'this is just about all right.'