the same train very
seldom fought with each other. Yoke-fellows in toil, they were too wise
to try to injure each other in needless conflict. So, when a battle
began, the dogs quickly ranged themselves on the sides of their own
comrades, and soon it was a conflict of train against train. At first I
thought it cruel not to feed them more frequently, but I found, as all
experienced dog-drivers had told me, that one good meal a day was the
best for them. So great were my sympathies for them that sometimes I
would give them a good breakfast in the morning; but it did not turn out
to be of any real benefit. The additional meal made them sluggish and
short-winded, and they did not seem to thrive so well. Good white fish
was the best food we could give them, and on this diet they could thrive
and work as on no other.

A goodly number of _dog-shoes_ were very necessary on these wild, rough
trips. Dogs' feet are tender, and are liable to injury from various
causes. On the smooth glare ice the pads of the feet would sometimes
wear so thin that they bled a good deal. Then on the rough roads there
was always the danger of their breaking off a claw or running a sliver
through the webbing between the toes. Many of the wise old dogs that
had become accustomed to these shoes, and thus knew their value, would
suddenly stop the whole train, and by holding up an injured foot very
eloquently, if mutely, tell the reason why they had done so.

The dog-shoes are like heavy woollen mits without the thumbs, made in
different sizes. When a foot is injured, the mit is drawn on and
securely tied with a piece of soft deer-skin. Then the grateful dog,
which perhaps had refused to move before, springs to his work, often
giving out his joyous barks of gratitude. So fond do some of the dogs
become of these warm woollen shoes that instances are known where they
have come into the camp from their cold resting-places in the snow, and
would not be content until the men got up and put shoes on all of their
feet. Then, with every demonstration of gratitude, they have gone back
to their holes in the snow.

Our dogs having been fed, we next make our simple arrangements for our
own supper.

A number of balsam boughs are spread over the spot near the fires, from
which the snow has been scraped away by our snowshoes. On these is laid
our table-cloth, which was generally an empty flour bag, cut down the
side. Our dishes, all of tin, are placed