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.