However, nothing was injured about him but his feelings, and since his bag of specimens was intact, the man of science, after a few minutes, was able to sit down and eat with as good an appetite as any of them.
Zeb proved himself a good weather profit. About midnight it started raining, and such rain as the boys had never seen. It was not rain. It was sheets of water. Even the waterproof tents began to leak, and the fact that the trenches had been dug did not serve to keep the floors dry, for the hard, sun-baked earth did not absorb the moisture, and the downpour speedily spread half an inch or more of water over the ground.
"Turn out! turn out!" shouted Dick, who shared one of the three tents with the boys.
"What's the matter?" began Tom sleepily, and then splash! went his hand into the water.
"Gracious, has the river overflowed?" demanded Jack.
"No, but it's raining handsaws and marlin spikes," cried Dick. "Wow! my bed's wet through."
"Same here," cried Jack ruefully. "I guess we'd better get out of this."
Outside they found the professor hopping about barefooted in the water. He had on his pajamas with a blanket thrown round his shoulders for protection against the rain. The boys, despite their discomfort, could not help laughing at the odd figure. Zeb joined them, grumbling: "We made a big mistake in camping in this arroyo.
I ought to have had better sense. It's nothing more nor less than a river. All the desert up above is draining into it."
It was true. The water was almost ankle deep. Luckily, the old shanty in which their supplies were stored was raised above the ground, and the goods were all covered with a big waterproof canvas.