This was not very pleasant, but the adventures of the day had put
me into a stoical frame of mind, and I saw no good in repining. I
unhitched Peg, sponged her foot, and tied her to a tree. I would
have made more careful explorations to determine just where I was,
but a sharp patter of rain began to fall. So I climbed into my
Parnassus, took Bock in with me, and lit the swinging lamp. By this
time it was nearly ten o'clock. There was nothing to do but turn in,
so I took off my boots and lay down in the bunk. Bock lay quite
comfortably on the floor of the van. I meant to read for a while,
and so did not turn out the light, but I fell asleep almost
immediately.

I woke up at half-past eleven and turned out the lamp, which had
made the van very warm. I opened the little windows front and back,
and would have opened the door, but I feared Bock might slip away.
It was still raining a little. To my annoyance I felt very wakeful.
I lay for some time listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof
and skylight--a very snug sound when one is warm and safe. Every now
and then I could hear Peg stamping in the underbrush. I was almost
dozing off again when Bock gave a low growl.

No woman of my bulk has a right to be nervous, I guess, but
instantly my security vanished! The patter of the rain seemed
menacing, and I imagined a hundred horrors. I was totally alone and
unarmed, and Bock was not a large dog. He growled again, and I felt
worse than before. I imagined that I heard stealthy sounds in the
bushes, and once Peg snorted as though frightened. I put my hand
down to pat Bock, and found that his neck was all bristly, like a
fighting cock. He uttered a queer half growl, half whine, which