ut 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:

[Illustration: Effect of a Dog on a Mexican]

"Do you s'pose Smith's at home?"

"Oh, I guess so," answered Ollie.

"I'd like to see him," went on the man, with an uneasy air.

"Probably you'll find him eating breakfast," said Ollie.

"I don't like to go in," said the man. "Why not?"

"I'm--I'm afraid of the dog."

"Oh!" replied Ollie. "Well, I'm not. Come on," and he stalked
ahead very bravely, while the man followed cautiously behind.

"He's a Mexican," said Smith in explanation afterwards. "All
Mexicans are afraid of dogs."

"That's a pretty