"There she goes!" and the next instant the tent went flying skyward, to land on another tent some distance away.
It was still raining "cats, dogs, and hammer handles" as Tom Rover expressed it.

All was dark, the only light being that given forth by the lantern which had not been blown out.

Occasionally came a flash of lightning, followed by the distant rolling of thunder.
"This is one of the real comforts of camp life," said Songbird Powell sarcastically.

"So much nicer than being under the roof of the Hall, you know!" "Never mind, Songbird, you need a washing off at least once a year," replied a fellow sufferer.
A minute later came another yell from Lew Flapp.

He and his tent-mates had tried in vain to hold down their canvas.