He took another step and plunged into a hole up to his shoulders.
Angry that he should be wet through and through, and with such muddy water too, he crossed the stream.
He looked down with dismay at his uniform.

The sun would soon dry it, but until he got a chance to clean it, it would remain discolored and yellow, like the jeans clothes which the poorer farmers of the South often wore.

And yet the accident that he bemoaned, the bath in water thick with mud, was to prove his salvation.
Dick shook himself like a big dog, throwing off as much of the water as he could.

He had kept his pistols dry and he rebuckled his belt around his waist.

Then he returned to his errand.