The rain poured off the ledge above and ran in rivulets underneath them, and the wind gusted every few seconds, blowing a mist of rain inside. But at least they were out of the worst of the storm and away from the danger of lightning.

The steady pounding of the rain drowned out all other sounds except for the occasional boom of thunder. The temperature had dropped significantly, and now that they were nearly drenched, a chill permeated Greta’s wet layers to her skin.

She rubbed Astrid’s arms to warm her. After a couple of minutes, the girl stopped shaking and scooted forward, attempting to take stock of their shelter. Though it was dark, the evening sky along with the lightning kept them from utter blackness. Greta could see the rain descending like a waterfall over the opening of the cavern. And she could see Astrid’s outline as she inched closer to the edge.

“Stay back, or you’ll fall out.”

The girl stuck her hand into the stinging drops. “It’s really pouring.”

“It’s good drinking water,” Mr. McQuaid said. “If you can manage to catch it.”

“Catch it?” Astrid squinted through the darkness as though trying to get a better look at the man.

“Yep.” He leaned forward, cupped his hands together to form a bowl, and then let the water fill it. When the rainwater reached the top, he lifted his makeshift bowl to his mouth and downed the water.

Astrid watched him, fascination radiating from her little body.

“You try it.” He nodded toward the falling water.

She eagerly held her hands out into the rain but managed to capture only a scant amount. Mr. McQuaid showed her again, then helped her to cup her hands so she caught a little more before it leaked out.

“Keep practicing.” He leaned back, his shoulder brushing Greta’s again.

Astrid chattered away as if there was nothing strange about sitting in a cave during a thunderstorm with a man they didn’t know. Although from everything Greta had witnessed of him so far, he seemed like a decent fellow. He’d gone out of his way to help her find Astrid. He’d saved them from certain mauling, possibly even death, from the mountain lion. And he’d aided them into this shelter where they were safe from the storm.

As if that wasn’t enough, he’d been kind and gentle with Astrid, giving her something to do to occupy her time. She could see now why both Phineas and Mr. Steele counted Mr. McQuaid as their friend.

“Thank you, Mr. McQuaid.” Her words seemed somehow inadequate.

“Ain’t nothing,” he replied so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him over the rain slapping against the rocks.

“I owe you our lives.”

“No, ma’am. You don’t owe me. I don’t expect nothing for helping someone in need.”