Page:Poor Cecco - 1925.djvu/67



must have slept quite a long time, for when they woke up it was nearly dusk. There was a storm coming on; big drops were already pattering on the burdock leaves, and it was one of these, tumbling straight on his nose, that roused Poor Cecco from slumber. He sat up, looked about him, and was just in time to push the boat further under shelter when the storm broke.

It was raining now in good earnest. The wind blew strongly and black jagged clouds were racing across the sky. And at once the little rainpeople appeared everywhere on the surface of the water, bobbing up and down and shouting. Bulka began to whimper and crept as close to Poor Cecco as he could. Soon the boat was rocking to and fro. The burdock leaves bent beneath the weight of moisture; little rivulets trickled down their broad stems. Before long the two friends were drenched through and through.

They were so wet that the water ran out through their heels, and to make matters worse the stream itself, swollen with the rain, began to rise; great waves swept down it with a rushing sound, awful things were happening out