ADRIFT.

about midday, Captain Lund drove down on the ice to draw up the boat owned by his sons; after which he was to return a second time for the decoys and shooting-box of the homeward-bound sportsmen. The floe was fast wasting under the April sun, and his horses' iron-shod hoofs sank deep into the snow-ice, which the night-frosts had left at morn as hard as flint.

He drove with his habitual caution, sounding more than one suspicious place with the axe, and at last came to a long tide-crack, through which the open water showed clear, and which seemed to divide the floe as far as the eye could reach.

"I come none too soon," said the deliberate pilot; "and I must warn La Salle not to trust his boat here another night."

"Well, captain, what think you of the weather?" asked La Salle, as the shaggy pony and rough sled halted near the boat.

"It looks a little cloudy, but I guess nothing more[Pg 159] than a fog may be expected to-night. You had better have your boat ready to get ashore right away; for the ice, though heavy enough, is full of cracks, and will go off with the first northerly gale which comes with the ebb."

"Well, I'll be getting the boat clear of the ice, and you may come for us the last of all."

And Lund, driving down the bar to his own boat, left La Salle busily at work, with axe and shovel, clearing away the well-packed ice which had for the last three weeks concealed the sides of the goose-boat.

By the time that Lund had hooked on to his own boat and driven up again, a large heap of ice and snow had been thrown out; but the runners were evidently frozen down, and the boat was immovable.

"I shan't have her clear until you get through with Davies's outfit; but I guess we shall be ready for you then."

Lund drove on, dragging the heavy boat up to the beach, and then concluded to haul it up the bank, above the reach of the increasing tides, and the danger of being crushed by the ice. As he cast off her rope, he felt a snow-flake on the back of his hand. Before he reached the ice, they were falling thick and noiselessly.

"I must hurry; for there's no time to lose. The tide is just at its turn; and if the wind comes from[Pg 160] 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[Pg 161] 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 about to discharge it to leeward, when, from the very air above their heads, a voice seemed to call on them by name, "La Salle, Charley, Peter, ahoy!"

La Salle dropped the butt of his gun, and listened. Again the voice sounded apparently nearer than before. "Charley, Peter, ahoy!"

"That voice ole man Lund. I know it; but what[Pg 162] for sposum voice there? Then track go that way. Ole man lose way, spose."

"Perhaps he has fallen in, Peter. Come, let's go."

And catching a rope near him, and forgetting to lay down the cumbrous gun, Charley ran towards the incessant and evidently-agonized cries, Peter following with an axe and a light fish-spear.

Scarcely had the runners gone a hundred yards before they stopped in dismay. At their feet the ice-field ended abruptly, and scarce a hundred yards away rose a wall of red sandstone, on whose summit stood Lund, peering down into the whirl of snow-flakes. His quick eye espied them, and he shouted his last advice.

"Launch your boat at once; don't wait. Keep under the lee. Don't try to save anything but your lives. Keep the wind at your backs in rowing, and mind the set of the tide eastward."

"Ay, ay! I understand. We're waiting for the boys!" shouted La Salle.

"I can't hear a word," called out Lund across the rapidly-increasing space.

"Give me that spear, Peter," said La Salle.

And snapping off the tiny barbs, he drew from his pocket a pencil, and wrote as follows on the slender rod of white maple:—

"We know our danger, but have no oars; for the boys have not returned. Unless they do so soon, [Pg 163]shall stick to the ice until the weather clears. Look for us along the coast if the storm lasts.

"Love to all.La Salle."

Holding up the rod to be seen by Lund, he placed it in the muzzle of his piece, and motioned to the captain to watch its flight. The pilot stepped behind a tree, and La Salle aimed at the face of a large snow-drift near him. The report echoed amid the b............