After what seemed like forever to him, Jim, his pursuers still hot on his trail, became desperate. Acting without much thought or consideration, he dove off Buck and into a dry streambed. Buck followed him, jumping none too carefully into the ditch after his rider. It was six or seven feet deep, and there was a large, flat rock conveniently overhanging one side of it, just more than a horse's width over the edge. The two crammed themselves into the small space and waited to see if the goons would find them.
Several minutes later, a horse could be heard galloping flat-out behind them, on the nonexistant trail they had been following. Another half hour passed. Nothing else. Then, just as Jim was ready to find a way out of the ditch and leave, the sky opened up and it started pouring. Soon thereafter he was standing almost waist-deep in brown, dirty rainwater from further upstream.