beginning to be useless. The bare wind-swept spaces were becoming rarer;
they could only stumble on blindly towards the nearest shore. Nor when
they reached it were they yet safe; they could scarcely stand against
the still increasing storm that was fast obliterating the banks and
stretch of meadow beyond. Their only hope of shelter was the range of
woods that joined the hill. Holding hands in single file, the
little party, consisting of Kitty, Marie, and Cousins Jane and
Emma--stout-hearted Gabriel leading and Cousin John bringing up the
rear--at last succeeded in reaching it, and were rejoiced to find
themselves near old Lane's half-ruined cabin. To their added joy and
astonishment, whiffs of whirling smoke were issuing from the crumbling
chimney. They ran to the crazy door, pushed aside its weak fastening,
and found--Uncle Sylvester calmly enjoying a pipe before a blazing fire.
A small pickaxe and crowbar were lying upon a mound of freshly turned
earth beside the chimney, where the rotten flooring had been torn up.

The tumultuous entrance of the skating party required no explanation;
but when congratulations had been exchanged, the wet snow shaken off,
and they had drawn round the fire, curious eyes were cast upon the
solitary occupant and the pile of earth and debris before him.

"I believe," said Gabriel laughingly, "that you have been so bored here
that you have actually played at gold-hunting for amusement."

Uncle Sylvester took the pipe from his mouth and nodded.

"It's a common diversion of yours," said Marie audaciously.

Uncle Sylvester smiled sweetly.