n down and slowly frozen to death under the snow,
but he did not dare to whisper it to others.

It was heavy work going through the drifts and keeping the right way
over a plain that had the similarity of the sea, but the men did not
falter. Jimmy Grayson was always looking into the darkness, striving to
see the darker line or blur that would mark the hills, but he asked no
questions. The snow ceased, and after a while low, black slopes appeared
against the dusky horizon.

"The hills!" said the candidate, and the Grafton man nodded. They
increased their pace until they were almost running. Neither Mr. Grayson
nor Mr. Plummer knew it, but the Grafton man had little hope; he had
merely suggested the place as a last chance.

It took them much longer than they thought or hoped to reach the hills,
but when they came to them they began a rapid search. The "King" and the
candidate were still together, and the former had taken a lantern from
one of the men. They had been looking among the hills for about a
quarter of an hour, and they drew somewhat away from the others. The
"King" raised his lantern at intervals and threw ribbons of light along
the white slopes. They came to a hill a little higher than the rest, and
he raised the lantern again. It was not a white reflection that came,
but something misty and brown.

"Dead leaves!" cried the "King." "It's a cave or a hollow."

He raised the lantern higher, and the light shone directly in at the
opening; it shone, too, upon Sylvia's face as she lay asleep in Harley's
arms.

"Babes in the wood!" muttered Hobart, who had come up behind them.

The "King" paused a moment. The picture appealed to him, too, and he saw
then in Harley only the rescuer of "his little girl." His heart yearned
over Harley also. Then he uttered a joyous shout, dropped his lantern,
and seized Sylvia. "Daddy," she said, awakening and putting her arms
around his neck, "I've come back."

"God bless you, my child, my daughter!" he said.

To Harley it was all a dream; there was something the matter with
him--there was a sort of dull, unreal feeling, and these men that he
knew seemed to be very far away. Nor did he understand why they pulled
him out so roughly, rubbed snow on his face and ears, and chafed his
hands violently. Afterwards he remembered hearing dimly some one say,
"We're just in time; he was freezing to death," and then he wished they
would be gentler. Fiery stuff was poured down his throat,