wrapping ourselves in our wet blankets, we took the collars for pillows and tried to think ourselves comfortable. But the wind was blowing fiercely and the rain falling at an incredible rate. We were soon completely drenched; and the water gurgled good, good, good, down through the horse-collars. The water was rushing in torrents down the hill-sides, and stood in sheets upon the level. We saw clearly that it was _immersion_ or get out of there, and we chose the _latter_. Our wits were then at an end, and we concluded that if we owned _hell_ and _that country_, we would rent out the _latter_ and live in the _former_. A chicken sitting out upon the naked limb of an apple-tree in a cold _winter’s storm_ is not to be compared to a boy standing in mud knee-deep, with water dashing about his ears like a water-wheel, and pouring from his nose like a house-spout, and not even a pin to hang himself up on. Dave was all the while silent, and seated upon a box in the dug-out, wrapped in a blanket, and looking into the fireplace as though comparing the place with _hell_, and _rebel prisons_, and all other noted places in his dreams. John had learned some of the western dialect, and was seated upon the wagon, with a blanket over him, rehearsing what he had learned; and I thought from what little I knew of it he succeeded very well, and learned fast, and remembered first-rate. We, however, were living, though not in the best of humor, when about three o’clock in the morning it suddenly turned cold and began to sleet. Now if any _painter_ can picture the scene of that camp, or any writer describe the condition and feeling of that party who groped in the darkness of that cave on the banks of the Cimaron on that cold, dreary morn, he must have been there himself. Every blanket that we had, and every thread of clothing that wrapped our forms was wet and dripping. There was not a dry piece of fur; and we raced over the prairie and rubbed ourselves to keep the blood in circulation. I tell you the sharp wind that whistled by and roared among the hills soon aroused Dave from his slumbers, and he was the most frantic racer I ever saw. He could run over a jack-rabbit in one hundred yards. When we were tired of running, with pick and spade we set to work digging in the earth at the mouth of the dug-out to keep warm and to lower it so as to drain out the water and mud. Morning came and we were still alive, but redder noses than ours never roamed a Colorado dram-shop. Our horses, too, were covered with ice, and must have felt pretty uncomfortable. At length the sun slowly rolled from the horizon and sent his sparkling beams upon the dismal plain, and drew all animation to the eastern slopes. By great exercise we managed to dry our clothes upon us, and felt pretty comfortable again.