Twenty minutes later he had joined the little party, who were proceeding at a slow dog-trot around the shores, instead of taking the direct course across the ice, which, being deemed unsafe by them, had wisely been avoided; for no one can be too cautious on ice of which they know nothing.
George Waring, the only son of La Salle's employer, skated ahead of his companion, who was evidently of other than Caucasian origin, in part at least. The skater was a tall, fresh-complexioned, slender youth, of about seventeen, bold, active, and graceful in his movements, but having the appearance of one whose growth had been a little too rapid for an equal development of health and strength; and indeed it was only on condition that he should submit carefully to the directions of La Salle that his father had consented to the present expedition.
His companion was, perhaps, a year older, but rather short and thick-set, with features in which the high cheek-bones and coppery hue of the American showed very prominently. La Salle had fallen in with him at the Seven Islands, on the Labrador coast, the year before, and employed him as a pilot to the Straits of Belle Isle. He called himself Regnar Orloff, was of tremendous strength for one of his years, and although apparently lazy, and somewhat fleshy, could move quickly enough, and to purpose, in time of need.
Now, however, he rested one knee on the only unoccupied portion of a large, light sled, drawn by the third member of the party, a powerful dog of the Newfoundland species, which he was evidently training into some little excellence as a sledge-dog. It was only an added virtue, even if complete; for noble old Carlo had already excellences enough to canonize a dozen individual canines. He was strong, sagacious, peaceably inclined, but a terrible foe when aroused; could eat anything, carry a man in the water, watch any place, team, or article, hold a horse, beat for snipe or woodcock, lie motionless anywhere you might designate, retrieve anywhere on land, water, or ice, and loved a gun as well as his young master, La Salle.
[Illustration: "WELL, GEORGE, YOU'RE HERE AT LAST."--Page 127.]
"Well, George, you're here at last," cried La Salle, as he came up. "How is everything in town, and what's the news?"