He stooped his head to enter, straightened his lank figure, and took in the situation without expression.
"Well, this is handy," said he; "I was gettin' tur'ble dry, and was thinkin' I would have to climb way down to the creek in all this rain." He stooped to the pool in the centre of the tarpaulin and drank.
But now our torches began to run low.

A small dry bush grew near the entrance.

We ignited it, and while it blazed we hastily sorted a blanket apiece and tumbled the rest out of the drip.
Our return without torches along the base of that butte was something to remember.

The night was so thick you could feel the darkness pressing on you; the mountain dropped abruptly to the left, and was strewn with boulders and blocks of stone.

Collisions and stumbles were frequent.