204 My Dogs in the Northland 



and come back with only twelve. The other 

 four had met with accidents and had to be 

 killed. The general way of disposing of a 

 dog thus injured was to have one of the In- 

 dians kill him with one swift blow of the 

 heavy axe. 



Never imagining that any other fate 

 than this was in store for Muffy, one of the 

 Indians had quietly unfastened the largest 

 axe from one of the sleds and with his com- 

 rade was now only awaiting my orders to 

 kill my unfortunate dog. 



" Put up your axe," I almost shouted. 

 " That may be your way but it is not mine. 

 Muff is not going to be killed if I can help 

 it." 



Wondering what I was going to do, they 

 put up the axe and then, as I ordered, they 

 gently lifted the wounded dog into my car- 

 iole, and there among the robes we laid her 

 down in as comfortable a position as pos- 

 sible. We got her home all right. But it 

 meant that I had to walk or run as did my 

 Indian guide as least one hundred miles. 

 It was very fatiguing and exhausting work. 



The two nights we had to camp, Muff 

 shared with me my camp bed among the fur 

 robes. 



