Rupert and Rumple were doing valiant service, one at either end of the
wagon, in holding the curtains together, as the fierce wind kept ripping
them open, letting in sheets of rain upon the group cowering within.

Rocky had been tied by his halter to the lee side of the wagon to
prevent him from wandering under the trees and courting speedy
destruction there. He stood with bent head and bunched hindquarters, as
if in stolid resignation, although Ducky cried because he was too big to
be taken into the shelter of the tilt--to be made comfortable, as she
said. It was quite in vain that Don and Billykins sought to console her
by saying that horses rather enjoyed being out in the rain. She was
quite positive that they knew nothing about it, and told them so with
brisk decision that left them without anything more to say on the
subject. But the interest of the argument had dried her tears and taken
away so much of her fear of the storm that everyone felt it was well
worth while to have roused her to such a pitch.

It was dark before the rain ceased, and by then Rupert and Rumple were
just about wet through from their efforts at keeping the rain from the
others. There was no question of who should sleep under the wagon
to-night, for by the time sundown came they were surrounded by about two
feet of water, and although this would doubtless run off before very
long, the mud which was left behind was every bit as bad as the water
when considered in the light of a foundation for one's mattress.

So they all sat in chilly discomfort in the wagon, making a frugal
supper from damper left over from breakfast, eked out with biscuits.
Then, leaning against each other's shoulders, they tried to forget their
discomfort in sleep.

Nealie had insisted that Rupert and Rumple should strip off their wet
jackets and wrap themselves in blankets; but the worst of it was that
Rupert was wet below his jacket, which was thin, to suit the heat of the
day, and so, as might be expected, he took a violent chill, and as he
had been very unwell on the day before, his condition, when morning
dawned, fairly frightened Nealie. For he was blazing with fever, and
talking all sorts of nonsense about his mother and Aunt Judith.

It was his constant harping on the people who had died which so worried
her; because, of course, she very naturally thought that he was going to
die too.

The driving on this day was left to Sylvia and Rumple, who put
Rockefeller