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.
"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?"
"O, nothing out of the common. All are well. The governor gave a ball Wednesday, and the House dissolves next week. We've had plenty of geese to eat, but we wanted to kill some; and so here we are."
"How are you, Regnie? Getting tired of civilization, and wanting to get back to the ice?"
"Ha, ha, ha! Yes, master, just so. After I see Paris and Copenhagen, I do very well, keep quite satisfied. But when I shut up in large city like C., I think it too much. I feel lonesome, want to get back to the wild'ness."
"And how does Carlo learn sleighing?"