“Him blow big by-me-by,” said Cujo with a sober face.  “Him big storm, dis.”

“The air was full of a moanin’ sound,” to use Aleck’s way of expressing it.  It came from a great distance and caused the monkeys and birds to set up more of a noise than ever.  The trees were now swaying violently, and presently from a distance came a crack like that of a big pistol.

“Was that a tree went down?” asked Randolph Rover, and Cujo nodded.  “It is a good thing, then, that we got out of the forest.”

“Big woods werry dangerous in heap storm like dis,” answered the African.  “Tree come down, maybe kill um.  Hark! now um comin’!”

He crouched down between two of the largest rocks and instinctively the others followed suit.  The “moanin” increased until, with a roar and a rush, a regular tropical hurricane was upon them.  The blackness of the atmosphere was filled with flying tree branches and scattered vines, while the birds, large and small, swept past like chips on a swiftly flowing river, powerless to save themselves in those fierce gusts.

“Keep down, for your lives!” shouted Randolph Rover; but the roar of the elements drowned out his voice completely.  However, nobody thought of rising, and the tree limbs and vines passed harmlessly over their heads.

The first rush of wind over, the rain began, to fall, at first in drops as big as a quarter-dollar and then in a deluge which speedily converted the hollows among the rocks into deep pools and soaked everybody to his very skin.  Soon the water was up to their knees and pouring down into the river like a regular cataract.

“This is a soaker and no mistake,” said Sam, during a brief lull in the downpour.  “Why, I never saw so much water come down in my life.”

“It’s a hurricane,” answered Randolph Rover, “It may keep on —­”

He got no further, for at that instant a blinding flash of lightning caused everybody to jump in alarm.  Then came an ear-splitting crack of thunder and up the river they saw a magnificent baobab tree, which had reared its stately head over a hundred feet high from the ground, come crashing down, split in twain as by a Titan’s ax.  The blackened stump was left standing, and soon —­ this burst into flames, to blaze away until another downpour of rain put out the conflagration.

“My, but that dun been awful!” murmured Aleck with a shiver.  “Ise glad we didn’t take no shelter under dat tree.”

“Amen,” said Tom.  He had been on the point of making some joke about the storm, but now the fun was knocked completely out of him.

It rained for the rest of the day and all of the night, and for once all hands felt thoroughly, miserable.  Several times they essayed to start a fire, by which to dry themselves and make something hot to drink, but each time the rain put out the blaze.  What they had to eat was not only cold, but more or less water-soaked, and it was not until the next noon that they managed to cook a meal.