"Better the sun than the clouds," Cummings said in a tone of anxiety, and Poyor increased his pace, no longer searching with his eyes for the enemy; but casting quick glances from side to side as if hunting for some particular object.
A south wind came up, and the boys were trudging along right merrily, despite their fatigue, when it was as if a solid sheet of water descended upon them.
There had been no warning drops to give notice of the coming storm; but the rain literally fell in torrents, drenching the fugitives at the first downpour.
It was now impossible to see twenty feet in either direction. The driving rain and the white clouds which completely enveloped the mountain shut out everything from view.
The enemy might have crept close upon them without being aware of the fact.
There was no place in which to shelter themselves, and the boys had a thorough illustration of what a tropical rain-storm may be during the time Poyor was hunting for such a place as would serve to shield them from the flood.
Not until half an hour had passed did they make a halt, and then the Indian led them under an overhanging ledge, in front of which was a sheer descent of eighty feet or more to the valley beneath.
"Here we can wait until the worst of the gale has blown over," he said, as he threw down his burden and prepared to enjoy a long rest. "It is not likely we shall be able to move to-night, and there is no fear the enemy will come upon us while the storm rages."
"We shall at least be where the canteens can be filled," Cummings replied in a tone of content, "and by gaining a fresh supply of water the journey will be robbed of half its dangers, consequently a wetting is of but little consequence."
To have seen the mountain at this moment one would hardly have thought that the party could have suffered from thirst. Every crevice of the rocks was now a stream, and by reaching out in a dozen different directions a quantity of the precious liquid could be obtained.