woods, do you, Hugh?” remarked Arthur. And then, seeing that the other was really in earnest, he looked again, and more closely, after which he continued: “Well, now that you mention it, seems to me there is something familiar about that riven stump. My stars! Hugh, it’s the big oak with the hollow trunk!”

There was a vein of awe in the boy’s voice when he said this, and his eyes were staring as hard as could be at the telltale evidence before him.

“And, Arthur, it doesn’t look quite so cozy in that hollow as when you wanted us to hide there from the storm, does it?” Hugh asked him.

The boy turned a white face toward the patrol leader, and there actually were tears in his eyes as he said slowly:

“Just to think what would have happened to the bunch of us boys if everybody else had been as foolish as I was! It scares me just to look at the awful smash that bolt made of the big oak. And that shows how valuable it is to know what is safe and what isn’t. Hugh, after this I’m going in for woodcraft and everything connected with it. I’ve been fiddling too much with this camera business, perhaps.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Arthur,” the patrol leader rejoined. “Photography happens to be your hobby, just as geology and surveying are Bud’s. You’ve made some cracking good pictures, too, since you put your mind on it. I’m sure that when you turn in the ones you expect to show of flashlight views of wild animals, taken in their native haunts, the series will bring quite a few points to the Wolf patrol for that prize banner.”

“I hope so,” said Arthur, “but that does not change my resolution about woodcraft. You must have guessed it was this tree that the last bolt struck, Hugh. I can see now why you kept following our back tracks so closely, even when there was a better trail at hand. You wanted to show me this sight, so it could be an object lesson. Well, let me tell you all I’ll never forget it as long as I live; and some fine day p’r’aps I can keep other foolish boys from getting under a big tree when a storm is coming up.”

“I was just thinking of something, Hugh,” remarked Billy, who had indeed been looking unusually serious for him while this conversation was going on.

“Well, give us the benefit of your wisdom, then, Billy Wolf,” Bud entreated.

“Here’s where we’ve got a fighting chance to pull down the biggest wad of points you ever heard of. Wasn’t it two hundred and fifty that was to go to the patrol containing a scout who had been instrumental in saving a human life since the contest started? Well, what’s the matter with our claiming a thousand? Hasn’t our leader saved all our lives by his judgment in this hollow tree business? How about that, Hugh? Think we’d stand any show of getting our claim admitted by the committee?”

“Well, that’s too fine a question for me to settle offhand,” the other replied with a laugh; “but I rather think it meant saving a life at the risk of one’s own; and you know that it was only my knowledge of these things that counted in this case. Still, Arthur must take a picture of this tree to-morrow, and we can put in a claim for points in woodcraft. It will be a good thing for every scout in the troop to hear about; and when they see what happened to the big oak with the fine hollow in its trunk, they’ll never allow themselves to be tempted to crawl into such a trap when lightning is in the air.”

As the four boys hurried on Bud remarked drily: “A little common sense went a long way this time.”

CHAPTER III.
SCOUT LAW.

No doubt in four families that same evening, while the good people of the house gathered about the board, there was considerable interest taken in certain versions of that day’s adventures. More than one mother’s cheeks grew pale as she learned how close her boy had been to a sudden death, while the father nodded his head and remarked in this wise:

“Now, I shouldn’t be surprised if Boy Scout training did amount to considerable, after all. That was a simple thing to know, but it proved to be mighty practical in application. Beware of trees and barns during a thunder storm. I’m glad you showed such good sense, son.”

The account given in Hugh Hardin’s home was much more modest than in any of the others. He shared the credit for discovering the wonderful shelves of rocks and the determination not to stay under the tree, so that any one listening might have received the impression that all four lads had simultaneously settled upon those important points. Hugh used the word “we” constantly, and it was not until later, when his folks met with the parents of the other boys, that they learned just where all the thoughtfulness lay.

The following day dawned as “fine as silk,” as Arthur gleefully told Hugh over the ’phone, when asking what would be the best time for them to start out on their second trip to the woods.

“This is just the dandiest day for taking pictures that ever could be, Hugh,” he went on to say. “The air is as clear as a bell, and you know that counts for a heap. My book of instructions says that’s why they get such fine views out in California, where the atmosphere is extremely rarefied.”

“Whew! does it say all that?” laughed Hugh. “Then I don’t wonder you’re anxious to take advantage of a day like this. That storm has cleared the air in a great way, for a fact.”

“Well, if they’d had it as severe here as we did up there in the woods,” continued Arthur, “it would have been tough on church steeples and such. I believe there wouldn’t have been one left in town. But only a few trees were blown down, and one house struck.”

“Where was that?” asked Hugh. “I hadn’t heard about any such thing.”

“Luckiest thing ever,” said Arthur; “it happened to be that old deserted building that was called Sutton’s Folly. Lightning set it afire, and in the storm the Excelsior Company couldn’t get out there to do their little business; so it burned to the ground, some people say. Others speak of the ruins standing, and looking queer. I’m bound out that way right now to try for a picture. How about the time we start up into the woods, Hugh? Would one o’clock do?”

“Make it one, and if either of the other boys can’t get off I’ll let you know, Arthur,” the other informed him.

“That goes, then, and meet at the church as before. By the way, Mr. Assistant Scout Master, although it’s only seven o’clock, you’ll be interested to know that I’m wearing my badge right-side up already. Haven’t missed connections now for twelve days; but it never came so early in the morning before.”

“Good for you, Arthur; how did it happen?” asked Hugh, always interested in anything that had to do with the application of scout principles. “Help the hired girl up with a bucket of coal, or run an errand for the folks?”

“Well, I did go on an errand before breakfast, but as that is a part of my regular home duties I never count it as worth while mentioning. I’d be pretty small to change my badge on that account. It was this way, Hugh. I have to go for milk, you see, because we get our supply now from old Mrs. Grady. She keeps just one cow, and it helps her out to sell all she can spare; but she’s so crippled with the rheumatics that she can’t walk much and people have to come to her. Are you listening, Hugh?”