VII
A SWOLLEN STREAM AND STOLEN PONY
It was our custom at all camps to park the supply-train in the form of
an oval, with the tongues of the wagons outward and the wheels locked.
An entrance, the width of a wagon, was left at one end.
When, therefore, it became certain that a tempest was about to break
upon us, using the boy corporals as messengers, the chief wagon-master
received orders from me to drive up the mules and corral them within
the circle of wagons, and the commissary stock was hurried under the
shelter of a rocky mesa west of the camp. All this was to prevent a
stampede should the coming tempest be accompanied by wind and hail.
Tent-pins were driven in deeper, guys tightened, cavalry horses driven
up, hobbled, and secured to picket ropes, loose articles thrown into
wagons, and every precaution taken to be in readiness for the storm.
We had not long to wait before the rain came down in torrents. In an
incredibly short time the water was flowing swiftly down the slope to
the river. It gathered against our tent, and finding the frail
structure must go, we seized everything portable, dashed into the
furious downpour, and climbed to the tops of surrounding bowlders.
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