Incredibly, Mother Nature did not unleash her wrath for another two hours. With recent flash flood accounts in a neighboring state forefront in their minds, all camp preparations were modified.
Canoe secured out of the river. Tent placed far up the gravel bar with a wary eye on nearby trees. The approaching weather dilly-dallied long enough for the making a fire and a hearty meal to fuel the duo as they watched threatening skies and listened to the increasing volume of encroaching rumbles.
Darkness, though, ushered in Mother Nature’s fury swiftly. She thrashed the riverway with howling winds, deafening thunder, piercing lightning and tons and tons of swirling rain.
During the worst of it, Tarzan was ultra alert, periodically unzipping the tent a smidgeon to peer out, at what he didn’t say. Nancy didn’t ask. She was ultra alert, too, battling a terrifying panic. At every urge to scream, or cry, or run, or crawl under the sleeping bag, she could hear one of Tarzan’s trademark replies, “Now what good would that do?” loop in her head. Sitting up was impossible with the wild weather wanting to flatten the tent. All she could do was swallow the fear, muffle the what-ifs in her mind, and wait.
Later in the night she would rouse at a passing shower accompanied by snippets of thunder and lightening. Or was she roused by Tarzan still now and then unzipping the flap to peer out? A mystery for Nancy Drew to solve with the morning light.