Working his way out of the hazel-brush, he came to a halt against a fence and waited for lightning.

That there was a house in the neighborhood he could not doubt, but whether it were inhabited or not was a question.

And where was it?
For full five minutes--an eternal five minutes--the pitiless rain poured down upon Charlton as he stood there by the fence, his eyes going forward to find a house, his heart running back to the perishing Katy.

At last the lightning showed him a house, and from the roof of the house he saw a stovepipe.

The best proof that it was not a deserted claim-shanty! Stumbling round the fence in the darkness, Charlton came upon the house, a mere cabin, and tried three sides of it before he found the entrance.
When he knocked, the door was opened by a tall man, who said: "Right smart sprinkle, stranger! Where did you come from?
Must 'a' rained down like a frog." But Albert had no time for compliments.