Muff, the Affectionate Mother Dog 205 



During our last night's peculiar adven- 

 ture on that journey, Muff showed that even 

 if suffering from a broken clavicle, she was 

 still the alert and vigilant watch-dog. 



When we had reached a point about 

 twenty miles from my mission house, night 

 was coming on. The stars were beginning 

 to shine and the spectral auroras were flash- 

 ing their cold and ghostly lights athwart the 

 northern skies. The question of camping or 

 going on had been debated as we had 

 stopped where we had found a little dry 

 wood. Making a fire on a spot from which 

 our snow-shoes had scraped away the snow, 

 we made some refreshing tea for ourselves. 



The Indians and myself were eager to 

 push on and finish the journey, even if we 

 were very tired and footsore. But my be- 

 loved brother missionary was about done 

 out. As his sled was heavily loaded with 

 supplies for his distant mission, he had 

 bravely kept steps with the best Indian run- 

 ners and had ridden but very little indeed. 

 As a natural result, his feet were swollen 

 and blistered, and every bone and muscle in 

 his body seemed to cry for rest. So when he 

 saw that we were resolved on continuing 

 the journey until we reached our home 



