"I don't know. We must be sharp. I guess you had better run to the house and see if there's anybody there. It's just a chance there may be. And bring them back to help us carry your father. Woa!" she cried to the horses, which, stung by the snow, were plunging about again. "Steady there! Look sharp, boy."
Cyril made his way as fast as he could over the snow-path through the trees; fortunately for him it was so sheltered that not much new snow had fallen upon it. After proceeding a few yards he stepped out of the shelter of the trees into what seemed a great snow-drift, which at first appeared impassable; by degrees, however, he perceived a way round it, which eventually brought him suddenly to the window-frame of a wooden house.
Looking in Cyril perceived a man dressed as a hunter kneeling on the floor, apparently digging a hole in the earth about the centre of the room; some boards he had taken up lay beside him.
"Come," cried Cyril to him, "come, my father——"
He was interrupted by a great cry, as the man, springing to his feet, flung up his arms in extreme terror.
CHAPTER XV.
A CONFESSION OF GUILT
Cyril stared at the terrified man in amazement. The latter's cry rang through the empty house and filled his ears. What had so frightened him?
"My father," began Cyril again, wishing to explain his sudden appearance by saying that his father was lying out in the snow, waiting to be carried into shelter.
"Oh! Stop, stop!" cried the man, interrupting him in apparent anguish. "Mercy, father! Father, have mercy!" He turned wildly as if to flee, but thought better of it, and coming to the window threw himself down on his knees before it, looking up into Cyril's face with wild, unseeing eyes. "I didn't mean to kill yer, my father," he said. "I only wanted the gold. And I can't find it. I can't find it. And the snow-blindness is coming over me. I can scarcely see! Oh, my punishment is great enough! Have pity on me! Have pity on me!"