g
the distant horizon.

"There is Hammerville!" cried Sylvia, flinging out her hand in the
direction where tall chimneys stood outlined against a copper-hued sky.

"What a long way off!" cried Nealie, with a new note of dismay in her
voice. She had thought that it would be possible to reach the goal of
their journeying before the storm broke, but those chimneys were at
least eight or ten miles away, and Rocky was showing signs of being
nearly done up, for the hills had been heavier than usual, and the heat
had been enough to try the mettle of the strongest horse.

"We had better camp for the night in the first convenient place, and
then to-morrow we can arrive in style," said Sylvia, who was quite pink
with excitement at the thought that when those distant chimneys were
reached she would see her father again.

"I suppose that will be better; but, oh, I had so hoped that we should
have reached home to-night, so that Rupert would not have to sleep on
the ground any more! I am so worried about him," said Nealie, who had
jumped down from the wagon, and was standing in the road trying to make
up her mind which was the best pitch for a camp, always a time of
anxiety for her since that night when the stampeding cattle had bowled
the wagon over in their mad rush down the steep hillside.

"Let the boys have the wagon to-night, and we will sleep underneath. I
should love it!" cried Sylvia, clapping her hands and whirling round on
the tips of her toes, bowing to an imaginary audience, then giving a
sideway skip to show the lightness of her poise.

But at that moment there was a crackle of thunder right above their
heads, a blaze of lightning, and then a downpour of rain, as if the roll
of the thunder had opened the floodgates of the clouds. It was no longer
a question of where to camp or where to sleep. They just had to crowd
into the wagon and stay there until the tempest had spent itself.

CHAPTER XIV

The Arrival

Never had any of the seven seen a storm to equal the one that followed.
The thunder was almost incessant, while the lightning played in blue
forks and flashes round a couple of stringy barks growing by the side of
the road a little farther on, darting in and out like live things at
play, until Nealie forgot half of her fear in the fascination of
watching them.

Ducky had crept under the roll of mattresses at the back of the wagon,
and was hiding there in the dark from the terror of the storm, while