“Turn out! turn out!” shouted Dick, who shared one of the three tents with the boys.

“What’s the matter?” began Tom sleepily, and then splash! went his hand into the water.

“Gracious, has the river overflowed?” demanded Jack.

“No, but it’s raining handsaws and marlin spikes,” cried Dick.  “Wow! my bed’s wet through.”

“Same here,” cried Jack ruefully.  “I guess we’d better get out of this.”

Outside they found the professor hopping about barefooted in the water.  He had on his pajamas with a blanket thrown round his shoulders for protection against the rain.  The boys, despite their discomfort, could not help laughing at the odd figure.  Zeb joined them, grumbling:  “We made a big mistake in camping in this arroyo.

I ought to have had better sense.  It’s nothing more nor less than a river.  All the desert up above is draining into it.”

It was true.  The water was almost ankle deep.  Luckily, the old shanty in which their supplies were stored was raised above the ground, and the goods were all covered with a big waterproof canvas.

“Let’s camp out in the shanty till daylight,” suggested Jack.

“That would be a good idea if it had a roof,” commented Zeb dryly.

“Why can’t we spread some of the canvas over us?” asked Tom.

This was finally done, and thus passed most of their first night on the desert.  Yet none of them complained, but made the best of it.  The boys knew that it is the wisest plan to meet all camping mishaps with a smiling face.

By morning the rain had ceased.  The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly.  Their wet bedding and garments were soon dried and then the work of unpacking the sections of the Wondership was begun, for they were anxious to have the job completed and be on their way as soon as possible.

Old McGee had told the truth when he said they would not be molested.

An old Indian jogging by on a spavined horse and wrapped in a dirty blanket was the only person they saw all day.  He was looking along the arroyo for a strayed burro.  He stared at them in stolid silence for a while and then rode off, shaking his head.  No doubt he was at a loss to account for such strange goings on.

That evening when Dick took his line down to the river, he met with unusually good luck.  He had just added a fine carp to his pile of fish when, chancing to look up, he saw a boat coming round the bend.

In the craft were three figures, one of whom he recognized instantly as Masterson.  The recognition was mutual and Masterson, who had the oars, started hastily to pull away from the place.  But Dick shouted to him.

“Don’t let me drive you away,” he cried.

Masterson shouted back something about “fresh kid” but kept pulling up the stream, and soon he was round the bend and out of sight.

“Now, I wonder what he is doing out here?” mused Dick, “and those two cronies of his.  They look sort of shady to me.”