The eye of the geognosist, in scanning the features of this plateau land, could not be mistaken in the character of its atmosphere. The dread cañons, the deep barrancas, the broken banks of streams, and the clay-cut channels of the arroyos, all testified that we were in a land of sudden floods.
Away to the east, towards the head waters of the river, we could see that the storm was raging in its full fury. The mountains in that direction were no longer visible. Thick rain-clouds were descending upon them, and we could hear the sough of the falling water. We knew that it would soon be upon us.
“What’s keepin’ them anyhow?” inquired a voice.
Our pursuers had time to have been up. The delay was unexpected.
“The Lord only knows!” answered another. “I s’pose thar puttin’ on a fresh coat o’ paint at the town.”
“They’ll get their paint washed off, I reckin. Look to yer primin’, hosses! that’s my advice.”
“By gosh! it’s a-goin’ to come down in spouts.”
“That’s the game, boyees! hooray for that!” cried old Rube.
“Why? Do you want to git soaked, old case?”
“That’s adzactly what this child wants.”