s
after a night's marauding. What if they were there now, and should rush
upon him if he ventured to disturb them!

'I don't believe I will try it,' he thought, as he glanced nervously at
the door, which was blockaded by a great bank of snow; and he was about
to retrace his steps, when a sound met his ear which made him stand
still and listen until it was repeated a second time.

Then forgetting both burglar and thief, he started forward quickly, and
was soon at the door, from which he dug away the snow with a desperate
energy, as if working for his life. For the sound was the cry of a
little child, frightened and pleading.

'Mah-nee! mah-nee!' it seemed to say; and Harold, thinking it was mamma,
answered, cheerily:

'I am coming as fast I can.'

Then the crying ceased, and all was still inside, while Harold worked on
until enough snow was cleared away to allow of his opening the door
about a foot, and through this narrow opening he forced his way into the
cold, damp room, where for a moment he could see nothing distinctly, for
the sunlight outside had blinded him, and there was but little light
inside, owing to the barred and snow-bound windows.

Gradually, however, as he became accustomed to the place, he saw upon
the long table in the corner where Arthur Tracy had moved it months
before, what looked like a human form stretched at full length and lying
upon its back, with its white, stony face upturned to the rafters above,
and no sound or motion to tell that it still lived.

With an exclamation of surprise, Harold sprang forward and laid his hand
upon the pale forehead of the woman, but started back as quickly with a
cry of horror, for by the touch of the ice-cold flesh he knew the woman
was dead.

'Frozen to death!' he whispered, with ashen lips; and then, as something
stirred under the gray cloak which partly covered the woman, he
conquered his terror and went forward again to the table, over which he
bent curiously.

Again the cry, which was more like 'mah-nee' now than 'mamma,' met his
ear, and, stooping lower, he saw a curly head nestle close to the bosom
of the woman, while a little fat white hand was clasping the neck as if
for warmth and protection.

At this sight all Harold's fear vanished, and, bending down so that his
lips almost touched the bright, wavy hair, he said:

'Poor little girl!'--he felt instinctively that it was a girl--'poor
little girl! come with me away from this dreadful place