1914] OUR FIRST WINTER 43 



the four years ! It is a common and expected occurrence 

 to go from a star-studded sky, a big full moon, and the 

 weird stillness of the Arctic night, into a raging wind 

 and a blinding, choking drift — conditions which often 

 compel one to bury his tingling face deep in the furs 

 topping the load and trust to the dogs for guidance. 

 My first trip nearly cost me my life. Over-confident in 

 my knowledge of Arctic sledge-work, I was leading my 

 two Eskimos. As I reached the very summit I snapped 

 out my long whip and yelled to the dogs for more speed. 

 I got it ! I thoroughly enjoyed that rush of air and the 

 leap and bound of the sledge plunging down into the 

 darkness, blissfully ignorant of the ice wall at the end 

 of the trail and the forty-foot drop into the slush- 

 covered sea; then suddenly the dark surface flashed up 

 before me. Rush of wind, crunch of sledge, and yelps 

 of dogs all seemed to mock my best efforts of whip and 

 voice. On the very brink the team shot to the left 

 up the snow-covered talus and so quickly that I was 

 nearly snapped off into space. How the dogs laughed, 

 wagged their tails, and rubbed their fine heads against 

 my bearskin pants! The curses hurled at them a few 

 seconds before because of their stupidity for rushing 

 blindly into death gave way to words of endearment 

 and appreciative stroking of their intelligent heads and 

 lithe bodies. 



In my five years' work among these dogs I have failed 

 to find the species described by writers as "treacher- 

 ous" or "vicious'* or "ugly brutes." On the contrary, 

 the full-blooded Eskimo dog is one of the most affection- 

 a e in the world. A hundred or more were often about 

 our door. My men passed in and out among them with- 

 out the least fear. Two hundred and fifty were berthed 



