They let him go a few steps away, and his shadowy form was lost. The girls clung to Dick, too cold, too scared, too much as in a dreadful dream, to cry--ay, too much benumbed. The boy shouted, Oscar responded; once and again shouts were exchanged, then came a scream--a scream so shrill that it seemed to cleave their poor failing hearts in two--and then silence, blank silence, save for the howl of the wind as it whirled the snow. Dick shouted himself hoarse, but there came no answer. Something terrible must have happened to Oscar. CHAPTER VII. OSCAR LOST--A FRUITLESS SEARCH. The dead silence that followed, save for the hooting of the storm, was more terrible, if that could be, than Oscar's scream, for it told of what? They did not say, but their hearts throbbed out what they feared. "Oh, Dick! what shall we do?" cried the little girls, clinging to him. He was a boy so strong, so brave--surely he could think of something. Well, he did think of something, but that was after they had shouted "Oscar! Oscar!" till the storm itself seemed the name. This is what he thought of. "There is nothing to be done but for me to go and look for him." It sounded like a miserably forlorn hope, and the girls thought so; for they clung to him, crying, "Oh, Dick, Dick!" and almost unnerved him. "Well, I can do no good up here, and it seems heartless to hear that cry, and not to go a step to see what can be done. You know he ventured his life for us." "Yes; but throwing away your life wouldn't save his if--if it isn't lost," faltered fond little Jenny. "No," returned her brother; "and, God willing, I don't mean to throw away my life." They were silent for a moment, while the storm raved on. I think they all breathed a sort of wordless prayer, then Dick spoke. "Now, you girls must stand by each other, and comfort each other; and, whatever you do, don't sit down and give in to sleep. Good-bye." There was no wringing of hands; the three could not bear it with that scream of Oscar ringing in their ears. He went away, his shadowy figure vanishing in the obscurity almost immediately, as Oscar's had done. Then the two girls were alone. Shout after shout rang reassuringly back to them, and they screamed back theirs in reply. True, Dick's shouts were farther away each time, but no screams followed; then there came a break, and they heard nothing. Very, very much alone they were now.