Rain? Sheets of it! Blinding, drenching sheets of it, driven by gust after gust, and riven by peal after peal, glare after glare. “Hang to the wagon, everybody!” shouted Captain Hi; and Davy, hanging hard, could see, amidst the cataract of water, his partners also hanging hard to guy-ropes and wagon-sheet corners. The mules stood drooped and huddled, their ears flat and their tails turned to the storm. Never had there been such lightning, never such thunder, never such rain! All in a moment, as it seemed to Davy, he was soaked through and through, and the ground under him was running with water an inch deep. The wagon top bellied and slapped and jerked, and every instant was threatening to tear loose and sail away, or else lift the wagon and all with it. “Hurrah!” yelled Billy gaily, braced and panting, as he tried to anchor his corner. Nothing daunted Billy Cody. “Now we’ve got water a-plenty!” As suddenly as it had arrived the bulk of the storm departed, leaving only a drizzle, and a very wet world. The Hee-Haw party might release their grip on the wagon, and take stock. The rain had driven through the canvas top into the bedding and other stuff, and the rest of the night bid fair to be rather uncomfortable. “What are we going to do now?” whined Left-over. “Do the best we can,” answered Captain Hi. “Stand up or lie down, whichever you please, till morning.” “Aren’t you going out to look at my Injun?” “He’ll keep. We’ve got enough to tend to right hyar.” Mr. Baxter lighted the lantern, and they overhauled the bedding. “Come on, Davy,” quoth Billy. “I’m going to sleep. Crawl in and we’ll shiver ourselves warm.” Billy’s buffalo robe was spread down on a spot where the rain already had soaked into the sandy soil, and snuggled beside him, under a blanket, dressed just as he was, Dave soon found himself growing warm. “’Twon’t hurt us any,” murmured Billy. “I’ve been wet this way many a time before. If we don’t change our clothes we won’t catch cold.” That was fortunate, for they had no clothes to change to! When Dave awakened, the sun was almost up; he was nearly dry, and had not been uncomfortable, after all. The Reverend Mr. Baxter was trying to start a fire with bits of wood from some of the boxes in the wagon, and to dry out a few buffalo chips. Left-over was snoring lustily, but the rest of the camp was turning out. Billy, who was sitting up, gazing about, whooped joyously. “Look at Left-over’s Injun!” he cried, pointing. Out he sprang and hustled across the plain. The camp began to laugh――all but Davy, who stared, blinking, and Left-over, who stirred, half aroused. At the dark spot, which was Left-over’s Indian, Billy stopped; he waved his hand and cheered, and came back, dragging the thing. As he drew near, Davy saw what the others had seen. The Indian was a big calf! “Shot it plumb through the head!” yelped Billy. “’Rah for Left-over!”