University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.
AN ADVENTURE.

THAT Katy should go with Albert to see the cousins
at Glenfield was a matter easily brought about.
Plausaby, Esq., was so desirous of Albert's absence
that he threw all of Mrs. Plausaby's influence on
the side of the arrangement which Charlton made a
sine qua non. Albert felt a little mean at making such a
compromise of principle, and Plausaby felt much as a man
does who pays the maker of crank-music to begone. He
did not like Katy's going; he wanted to further her marriage
with so influential a person as Smith Westcott, the agent in
charge of the interests of Jackson, Jones & Co., who not only
owned the Emporium, but were silent partners in the town-site.

But Katy must go. Plausaby affectionately proffered the
loan of his horse and buggy, which Charlton could not well
refuse, and so the two set out for Glenfield with many kind
adieus. Westcott came down, and smoked, and rattled his
keys, and hoped they'd have a pleasant journey and get back
soon, you know, Katy, by George! he! he! he! Couldn't
live long without the light of her countenance. 'S a fact!
By George! He! he! And when the carpet-bags and lunch-basket
and all the rest were stowed away under the seat of

the buggy, Mrs. Plausaby, with a magnificent number of streamers,
kissed them, and she and Cousin Isa stood by the gate and
nodded their heads to the departing buggy, as an expression of
their feelings, and Mr. Plausaby lifted his hat in such a way
as to conceal his feelings, which, written out, would be, “Good
riddance!” And Smith Westcott blandly waved his good-by and
bowed to the ladies at the gate, and started back to the store.
He was not feeling very happy, apparently, for he walked to
the store moodily, rattling the coppers and keys in his right
pantaloons-pocket. But he seemed to see a little daylight, for
just as he arrived in front of the Emporium, he looked up and
said, as if he had just thought of something, “By George! he!
he! he!”

Owing to some delay in fixing the buggy, Charlson had not
got off till about noon, but as the moon would rise soon after
dark, he felt sure of reaching Glenfield by nine in the evening.
One doesn't mind a late arrival when one is certain of a warm
welcome. And so they jogged on quietly over the smooth
road, the slow old horse walking half the time. Albert was
not in a hurry. For the first time since his return, he felt that
for a moment he possessed little Katy again. The shadow had
gone; it might come back; he would rejoice in the light while
he could. Katy was glad to be relieved of the perpetual conflict
at home, and, with a feeling entirely childish, she rejoiced
that Albert was not now reproving her. And so Albert talked
in his old pedagogic fashion, telling Katy of all the strange
things he could think of, and delighting himself in watching
the wonder and admiration in her face. The country was now
smooth and now broken, and Albert thought he had never seen
the grass so green or the flowers so bright as they were this

morning. The streams they crossed were clear and cold, the
sun shone hot upon them, but the sky was so blue and the
earth so green that they both abandoned themselves to the
pleasure of living with such a sky above and such a world
beneath. There were here and there a few settlers' houses, but
not yet a great many. The country was not a lonely one for
all that. Every now and then the frightened prairie-chickens
ran across the road or rose with their quick, whirring flight;
ten thousand katydids and grasshoppers were jumping, fluttering,
flying, and fiddling their rattling notes, and the air seemed full
of life. They were considerably delayed by Albert's excursions
after new insects, for he had brought his collecting-box and
net along. So that when, about the middle of the afternoon, as
they stopped, in fording a brook, to water old Prince, and were
suddenly startled by the sound of thunder, Albert felt a little
conscience-smitten that he had not traveled more diligently
toward his destination. And when he drove on a quarter of a
mile, he found himself in a most unpleasant dilemma,
the two horns being two roads, concerning which those who
directed him had neglected to give him any advice. Katy had
been here before, and she was very sure that to the right hand
was the road. There was now no time to turn back, for the
storm was already upon them—one of those fearful thunderstorms
to which the high Minnesota table-land is peculiarly
liable. In sheer desperation, Charlton took the right-hand
road, not doubting that he could at least find shelter for
the night in some settler's shanty. The storm was one
not to be imagined by those who have not seen its like,
not to be described by any one. The quick succession of
flashes of lightning, the sudden, sharp, unendurable explosions,
before, behind, and on either side, shook the nerves of Charlton
and drove little Katy frantic. For an hour they traveled
through the drenching rain, their eyes blinded every minute by
lightning; for an hour they expected continually that the next
thunder-bolt would smite them. All round them, on that treeless
prairie, the lightning seemed to fall, and with every new
blaze they held their breath for fear of sudden death. Charlton
wrapped Katy in every way he could, but still the storm
penetrated all the wrapping, and the cold rain chilled them
both to the core. Katy, on her part, was frightened, lest the
lightning should strike Brother Albert. Mufiled in shawls, she
felt tolerably safe from a thunderbolt, but it was awful to think
that Brother Albert sat out there, exposed to the lightning.
And in this time of trouble and danger, Charlton held fast to
his sister. He felt a brave determination never to suffer Smith
Westcott to have her. And if he had only lived in the middle
ages, he would doubtless have challenged the fellow to mortal
combat. Now, alas! civilization was in his way.

At last the storm spent itself a little, and the clouds broke
away in the west, lighting up the rain and making it
glorious. Then the wind veered, and the clouds seemed
to close over them again, and the lightning, not quite so vivid
or so frequent but still terrible, and the rain, with an incessant
plashing, set in as for the whole night. Darkness was upon them,
not a house was in sight, the chill cold of the ceaseless rain seemed
beyond endurance, the horse was well-nigh exhausted and
walked at a dull pace, while Albert feared that Katy would die
from the exposure. As they came to the top of each little
rise he strained his eyes, and Katy rose up and strained her
eyes, in the vain hope of seeing a light, but they did not know

that they were in the midst of—that they were indeed driving
diagonally across—a great tract of land which had come into the
hands of some corporation by means of the location of half-breed
scrip. They had long since given up all hope of the
hospitable welcome at the house of Cousin John, and now
wished for nothing but shelter of any sort. Albert knew that
he was lost, but this entire absence of settlers' houses, and even
of deserted claim-shanties built for pre-emption purposes, puzzled
him. Sometimes he thought he saw a house ahead, and
endeavored to quicken the pace of the old horse, but the house
always transformed itself to a clump of hazel-brush as he drew
nearer. About nine o'clock the rain grew colder and the lightning
less frequent. Katy became entirely silent—Albert could
feel her shiver now and then. Thus, in numb misery, constantly
hoping to see a house on ascending the next rise of
ground and constantly suffering disappointment, they traveled
on through the wretched monotony of that night. The ceaseless
plash of the rain, the slow tread of the horse's hoofs in
the water, the roar of a distant thunderbolt—these were the
only sounds they heard during the next hour—during the longer
hour following—during the hours after that. And then little
Katy, thinking she must die, began to send messages to the
folks at home, and to poor, dear Smith, who would cry so
when she was gone.

But just in the moment of extremity, when Charlton felt
that his very heart was chilled by this exposure in an open
buggy to more than seven hours of terrific storm, he caught
sight of something which cheered him. He had descended into
what seemed to be a valley, there was water in the road, he
could mark the road by the absence of grass, and the glistening

of the water in the faint light. The water was growing deeper;
just ahead of him was a small but steep hill; on top of the
hill, which showed its darker form against the dark clouds, he
had been able to distinguish by the lightning-light a hay-stack,
and here on one side of the road the grass of the natural
meadow gave unmistakable evidence of having been mowed.
Albert essayed to cheer Katy by calling her attention to these
signs of human habitation, but Katy was too cold and weary
and numb to say much or feel much; an out-door wet-sheet
pack for seven hours does not leave much of heart or hope in
a human soul.

Albert noticed with alarm that the water under the horse's
feet increased in depth continually. A minute ago it was just
above the fetlocks; now it was nearly to the knees, and the
horse was obliged to lift his feet still more slowly. The rain
had filled the lowland with water. Still the grass grew on
either side of the road, and Charlton did not feel much alarm
until, coming almost under the very shadow of the bluff, the
grass suddenly ceased abruptly, and all was water, with what
appeared to be an inaccessible cliff beyond. The road which
lost itself in this pool or pond, must come out somewhere on
the other side. But where? To the right or left? And how
bottomless might not the morass be if he should miss the road!

But in such a strait one must do something. So he selected
a certain point to the left, where the hill on the other side
looked less broken, and, turning the horse's head in that direction,
struck him smartly with the whip. The horse advanced
a step or two, the water rose quickly to his body, and he refused
to go any farther. Neither coaxing nor whipping could
move him. There was nothing to do now but to wait for the

next flash of lightning. It was long to wait, for with the continuance
of the storm the lightning had grown less and less
frequent. Charlton thought it the longest five minutes that he
ever knew. At last there came a blaze, very bright and blinding,
leaving a very fearful darkness after it. But short and
sudden as it was, it served to show Charlton that the sheet of
water before him was not a pool or a pond, but a brook or a
creek over all its banks, swollen to a river, and sweeping on, a
wild torrent. At the side on which Charlton was, the water
was comparatively still; the stream curved in such a way as to
make the current dash itself against the rocky bluff.