Everything was soaked and saturated.

There were no large trees; most of the bushes were green, and the dead ones were soaked.

The coverings were slobbery, the skins they sat on were slobbery, the earth itself was slobbery; so Dick threw his blanket (which was also slobbery) round his shoulders, and sat down beside his companions to grin and bear it.

As for Joe and Henri, they were old hands and accustomed to such circumstances.

From the first they had resigned themselves to their fate, and wrapping their wet blankets round them sat down, side by side, wisely to endure the evils that they could not cure.
There is an old rhyme, by whom composed we know not, and it matters little, which runs thus,-- "For every evil under the sun There is a remedy--or there's none.
If there is--try and find it; If there isn't--never mind it!" There is deep wisdom here in small compass.