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 Glenfleld 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, Charlton had not got off till
about noon, but as the moon would rise soon after dark, he felt sure of
reaching Glenfleld 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. Muffled 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 Charlion was, the water was comparatively still; the
stream curved in such a way as to make the current dash itself against
the rocky bluff.