They had not put up their tepee, and a moment later he heard Bruce anathematizing their idiocy.

The night was as black as a cavern, except when it was broken by lurid flashes of lightning, and the mountains rolled and rumbled with deep thunder.
Disentangling himself from his drenched blanket, Langdon stood up.

A glare of lightning revealed Bruce sitting in his blankets, his hair dripping down over his long, lean face, and at sight of him Langdon laughed outright.
[Illustration: "They headed up the creek-bottom, bending over from their saddles to look at every strip of sand they passed for tracks.

They had not gone a quarter of a mile when Bruce gave a sudden exclamation and stopped."] "Fine day to-morrow," he taunted, repeating Bruce's words of a few hours before.

"Look how white the snow is on the peaks!" Whatever Bruce said was drowned in a crash of thunder.
Langdon waited for another lightning flash and then dove for the shelter of a thick balsam.