bells, barking of the huskies, and yelling of the drivers, coast
away for the leagueless levels of the desolate North. Frozen river-beds
are the only path followed, for the high cliffs--almost like ramparts on
the lower MacKenzie--shut off the drifting east winds that heap
barricades of snow in one place and at another sweep the ground so clear
that the sleighs pull heavy as stone. Does a husky fag? A flourish of
whips and off the laggard scampers, keeping pace with the others in the
traces, a pace that is set for forty miles a day with only one feeding
time, nightfall when the sleighs are piled as a wind-break and the
frozen fish are doled out to the ravenous dogs. Gun signals herald the
hunter's approach to a chance camp; and no matter how small and mean the
tepee, the door is always open for whatever visitor, the meat pot set
simmering for hungry travellers. When the snow crust cuts the dogs'
feet, buckskin shoes are tied on the huskies; and when an occasional dog
fags entirely, he is turned adrift from the traces to die. Relentless
as death is Northern cold; and wherever these long midwinter journeys
are made, gruesome traditions are current of hunter and husky.

I remember hearing of one old husky that fell hopelessly lame during the
north trip. Often the drivers are utter brutes to their dogs, speaking
in curses which they say is the only language a husky can understand,
emphasized with the blows of a club. Too often, as well, the huskies are
vicious curs ready to skulk or snap or bolt or fight, anything but work.
But in this case the dog was an old reliable that kept the whole train
in line, and the driver had such an affection for the veteran husky that
when rheumatism crippled the dog's legs the man had not the heart to
shoot such a faithful servant. The dog was turned loose from the traces
and hobbled lamely behind the scampering teams. At last he fell behind
altogether, but at night limped into camp whining his joy and asking
dumbly for the usual fish. In the morning when the other teams set out,
the old husky was powerless to follow. But he could still whine and wag
his tail. He did both with all his might, so that when the departing
driver looked back over his shoulder, he saw a pair of eyes pleading, a
head with raised alert ears, shoulders straining to lift legs that
refused to follow, and a bushy tail thwacking--thwacking--thwacking the
snow!

"You ought to shoot him," advised one driver.

"You do it--