m
seeking a new shelter, among perils compared to which those already
passed, were "trifles light as air."

Heretofore they had been exposed to no wide sweep of seas, and had never
felt the solid ice beneath them rolling and plunging through mountainous
surges, or dashed in terrible collision against its companions of the
dismembered ice-pack. Now every mile which they drifted increased the
sweep of the sea, and in the centre of the wide Gulf, the southerly
winds would scarcely fail to open, at least, the outer sections of the
floes.

As they concluded their brief Sabbath exercises, La Salle drew from his
vest pocket a stump of lead pencil, and seemed at a loss for something
on which to write.

"Have any of you a piece of paper?" he asked.

All answered in the negative; but a thought seemed to strike him, and
drawing from an inner pocket a much crumpled letter, he opened it, and
seemed to consider. The envelope was worn out, but had preserved the
closely-written note paper within; and taking a single page, he spread
it on his gunstock, and, in broad-lined, coarsely-made letters, drew up
the following record of their present position and prospects:--

"OFF CAPE NORTH, SUNDAY, April 15, 186--.

"TO WHOEVER MAY FIND THIS: This morning the undersigned, with George
Waring, Peter Mitchell, and Regnar Orloff, all well, were twelve
miles north-east of Cape North, but a snow storm prevented an attempt
to land. Knowing that, with the presently impending southerly storm,
we may have to leave our present refuge, I hereby assure those who
may find this of our present safety, and desire them to forward this
to the office of the Controller of Customs at Halifax, or St. John.

(Signed) "CHARLES LA SALLE."

"Regnie, please write this in French on the other side--will you?" said
the writer, as he finished.

Orloff took the page, and turning it over, did as requested; but as he
finished signing his own name, he let the pencil drop from his fingers,
and for a moment found himself incapable of movement or expression.
Controlling himself with an effort, he folded the note neatly, and
returned it, with the pencil, to La Salle.

"Who is your fair correspondent, M. La Salle?" said he, in French.

La Salle, with flushed face and eyes lighted up with due resentment of
the other's curiosity, answered,--

"You seem to have read for yourself."

Orloff's manner changed at once.

"A thousand par