is just at its
turn; and if the wind comes from the north, the boys will be adrift.
Come; get up, Lightfoot. G'lang! Whoop! Go it!"

Already the rising wind began to whirl the thick-falling flakes in
smothering wreaths, and Lund groaned in spirit as, following the tracks
of his last trip, the stanch little horse galloped down the ice.

"I am afraid this is the end of my vision; for the ice won't be long in
breaking up now, and those boys are out in that d--n little craft."

And Lund in his perturbation swore and cursed after the manner of
"sailor-men" generally; that is, when they most need to pray.

Suddenly the little horse hesitated, relaxed into a trot, snorted,
reared, and stopped, wheeling half around, with the sleigh-runners
diagonally across the half-effaced track, which came to an unexpected
stop. Lund saw at once that another rod would have plunged horse and man
into the Gulf; the ice-fields had parted, and the boats and their
occupants were floating away at the mercy of the winds and waves.

"Let's see," said Lund; "the wind is nor'-east, and the tide will set
them in some, too. So, if the gale does not shift, that'll carry them
past McQuarrie's Point, and I'll hail them then, and let them know where
they are. God grant that they've got the boat clear; for once away from
the lee of the island, their craft would never find land in such a
squall as this. Come, Lightfoot," he added, as he sprang upon the sled,
and brought his leathern reins smartly across the animal's back,
"there's four lives on our speed; so go your fastest, poor fellow! and
God help that we may not be too late."

Meanwhile La Salle and Peter had viewed with no little anxiety the
sudden overclouding of the sky, or rather the heavy curtain of vapor
which seemed to descend mysteriously from the zenith, rather than to
gather from beyond the horizon.

"I no like snow; wind no good this time; tide too high. Spose Lund come,
must get boat across crack yonder any way."

And the one-armed hunter plied the light axe with a haste which showed
no small amount of anxiety.

The boat was soon clear, but the snow was falling so fast that they
could scarcely see to windward at all, and no part of the land was
visible. Again the Indian spoke, and a new cause of anxiety was stated.

"Where sposum boys this time? See boat little hile ago. No see any now.
They no see hice. Spose shootum big gun call them hin?"

La Salle took the heavy piece, and was