244 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [April 



vociferous, could contain themselves no longer; they 

 leaped as a solid body, tearing out their fastening. The 

 wolves took to their heels, bounding lightly over the 

 sea ice to North Cornwall, easily outstripping their 

 more cumbersome cousins. 



Before leaving this camp we blocked up carefully 

 the door of the igloo containing the skin of the mother 

 bear and the skins of the two cubs, which I concealed 

 carefully in the canvas cover of my blanket bag, an- 

 ticipating possible visitors. 



As we left this camp on the 16th, it was very evident 

 to me that Pee-see-a, my pet dog, who had been crushed 

 under the bows of my sledge two days before, was suffer- 

 ing intensely. I slipped him from harness, allowing him 

 to follow at his ease, hoping that by night he would 

 be stronger and better. Long after we had made camp 

 in Hassel Sound I saw him slowly making his way among 

 the ice hummocks toward our igloo. I went back on 

 the trail to meet him. He came up, placed his head 

 and paws wearily in my lap, and said, as plainly as a dog 

 could, "I am all in." Together we walked slowly 

 back to camp, our last bit of companionship. He had 

 followed me faithfully almost from the time when his 

 brown eyes first saw light; and now he was to go alone, 

 on the silent trail, far from the sound of snapping dog- 

 whips and yelling Eskimos, to a land where loads are 

 light and the going is smooth. The harness dangling 

 from my sledge was a constant reminder that I had 

 lost a good friend — the first on the trail after several 

 thousand miles of travel. 



On the 17th we reached the southern shore of Ellef 

 Ringnes Island. The dogs had now traveled some 468 

 miles. Day after day since leaving home their little 



