"Did they have to hold their skin garments round camp-fires?
Thank goodness, we've got these things dry at last! We're only in the nick of time.

Here comes the rain." It was a melancholy truth.

The Welsh mountains have a perverse habit of attracting clouds, even in June; the sky, which had been overcast since midday, was now inky dark, and great drops began to fall.

It was a calamity, but one for which everybody was fully prepared.

The patrols rushed round the camp loosening ropes, lest the swelling hemp should draw the pegs from the ground, and took a last tour of inspection to see that no bed was in contact with the canvas.
"If you even touch the inside of the tent with your hand you'll bring the water through," urged Catherine in solemn warning; "so, for your own sakes, you'd best be careful.