202 BOONEVTLLE TO SARATOGA. 



were flapping and snapping in the wind like a whip-lash. 

 There was imminent danger that our cloth house would 

 " inflate " like a balloon and "go up " and off into the trees 

 behind us. However, I managed to seize the curtains, and 

 shouted to John, who was now as wide awake as I, to light 

 a candle. He took a heavy boot and with the heel drove 

 the tent-peg firmly into its place, we fastened the curtains 

 securely, and then let the tempest howl. We pulled on 

 our boots, to prepare for emeri;rn<ir>, IVur'mir still that the 

 tent would blow away, and erawlrd under our blankets 

 again. But the gale gradually ^ulxided, and we at length 

 fell asleep. 



That was a famously uncomfortable night outside of the 

 tent, but we really suffered nothing inside, except from our 

 fears. Ned did not suffer at all, however, for he regarded 

 the whole affair as " perfectly jolly." 



We awoke to find the rain still falling. Breakfast was 

 taken in the tent, with a boat seat on a pail for a table, and 

 our bed for chairs, while John prepared our meal outside 

 as best he could. 



"John," said I, as he brought in an extra pile of pan- 

 cakes, as broad as the frying pan, " what would you have 

 done, if the tent had blown off last night in the rain? '' 



"Done? Why, I'd 'ave stood behind a tree and muled it 

 out 'till morning! " 



We spent the forenoon in " muling it out " in the tent, 

 making up lost time in sleep, studying the guide-book, try- 

 ing to read a pocket copy of Tennyson, and occasionally 

 dashing out in the rain to catch the signs of the weather. 



