He pointed to some heavy-looking masses of vapor hanging above a dim range of saw-backed mountains off to the east.
"In my opinion they're plum full of rain," he said.
"In that case we'd better get ready with the trenches," declared Jack. He picked up one shovel and gave another to Tom. The latter made a wry face but said nothing. Tom liked hard work no better than most boys, but he realized that the work had to be done, and so tackled it with the best grace he could.
Secretly he wished himself to be with Dick Donovan, who had been assigned to go fishing to see if he couldn't get "something" fresh for supper. The professor, as usual, was off somewhere collecting specimens.
But the task of digging the trenches was not as arduous as it had appeared. The sand was soft and yielding, and the shovels made rapid work with it. Soon a fairly deep trench was dug round each of the temporary shelters.
By the time the lanterns had been filled, and Zeb had cut a goodly stack of mesquite wood, everything was ready to begin preparations for supper.
"We'll have a blow-out to-night," said Zeb. "Canned salmon, beans, crackers, cheese and canned fruit, but don't expect to get that right along. I've lived on beans and bacon for six months in this very neck of the woods, and thought myself lucky to get that."
"Hullo!" came a cry from the direction of the river.
"There's Dick!" exclaimed both boys, and then as the young reporter came into sight, "What luck, Dick?"
"What do you know about this?" and Dick held up a fine string of glittering fish. There were catfish, perch and two eels.