Senior responded gamely.
"Keep well behind, old man. You'll dodge the snow better. Can you do a wee sprint? We're not far from the top of the ridge, and then we've only to work down the hill and bear to the left, and there we are."
"Only!" said Senior, wearily. "How far?"
"A bare mile. Step it out for all you're worth."
By this time it was obvious that the storm had recommenced in all its fury, and Acton, in an ecstasy of horror and anxiety lest he should turn the shoulder of the hill too late to see anything of the farm, almost ran forward. He had thrust out his head, and his eyes anxiously peered forward. They were now almost on the top of the shoulder of the fell. Acton turned round with eagerness.
"Five minutes more and we're—— He's gone!"
Senior, indeed, was not in sight. With a groan of despair, Acton ran back down the slope.
"Jack! Jack! Jack!" he howled above the wind, "Where are you?"
There was no reply
"He's lost!"