But we got small sight of the trail the next day, as the rain we had left behind came upon us again in greater force than ever.  It began toward morning, and when we looked out, just as it was becoming light, we found it coming down in sheets—­“cold, wet sheets,” as Ollie said, too.  The horses stood huddled together, wet and chilled.  We got on our storm-coats and led them up to a house a sort distance away, which proved to be Smith’s ranch.  There we found large, dry sheds, under which we put them and where they were very glad to go.  Once back in the cabin of the Rattletrap, we scarcely ventured out again.

It certainly wasn’t a very cheerful day.  We would not have minded the rain much, because we were dry enough; but the cold was disagreeable, and we were obliged to wear our overcoats all day.  We could watch the road from the front of the wagon, and saw a number of freighters go by, usually with empty wagons, as it soon became too muddy for those with loads.  We saw one fourteen-ox team with four wagons, and another man with twelve oxen and three wagons.  There were also a number of mule teams, and we noticed one of twelve mules and five wagons, and several of ten mules and three or four wagons.  With these the driver always rode the nigh wheel animal—­that is, the left-hand rear one.

“I’m going to put a saddle on Old Blacky and ride him after this,” said Jack.  “Bound to be in the fashion.  Wonder how Henderson is getting along in the mud?  A mile in two hours, I suppose.  Must be impossible for him to see the head oxen through this rain.”

The downpour never stopped all day.  We tried letter-writing, but it was too cold to hold the pen; and Jack’s efforts at playing the banjo proved equally unsuccessful.  We fell back on reading, but even this did not seem to be very satisfactory.  So we finally settled down to watching the rain and listening to the wind.

When evening came we shut down the front of the cover and tried to warm up the cabin a little by leaving the oil-stove burning, but it didn’t seem to make much difference.  So we soon went to bed, rather damp, somewhat cold, and a little dispirited.  I think we all stayed awake for a long time listening to the beating of the rain on the cover, and wondering about the weather of the morrow.

When we awoke in the morning it did not take long to find out about the weather.  The rain had ceased and the sky was clear, but it was colder.  Outside we found ice on the little pools of water in the footprints of the horses.  We were stiff and cold.  Some of us may have thought of the comforts of home, but none of us said anything about them.

“This is what I like,” said Jack.  “Don’t feel I’m living unless I find my shoes frozen in the morning.  Like to break the ice when I go to wash my face and hands, and to have my hair freeze before I can comb it.”

But we observed that he kept as close to the camp-fire which we started as any of us.  We went up to Smith’s to look after the horses.  While Jack and I were at the sheds Ollie stayed in the road watching the freight teams.  A big swarthy man, over six feet in height, came along, and after looking over the fence at Smith’s house some time, said to Ollie: