250 My Dogs in the Northland 



coinplish. They were ever prone to dis- 

 parage any of their wonderful deeds, and 

 were exceedingly modest when urged to 

 recount them. 



My equipment of Indians for my four 

 sleds and sixteen dogs on these long jour- 

 neys would be a guide and three dog- 

 drivers. 



The first-class Indian guides are certainly 

 wonderfully gifted men. Their ability to 

 lead on through those Northern pathless 

 solitudes, where for hundreds of miles, for 

 months together, not the least vestige of a 

 road is seen, and where to an ordinary 

 white man, there is absolutely nothing to 

 give the slightest hint or information of the 

 correct route — is simply marvellous. 



Naturally supposing that they guided 

 their course by the sun, I was amazed to 

 find that in the dark and cloudy days, when 

 the skies were leaden, and I could not tell 

 north from south, or east from west, they 

 swung along on their great snow-shoes with 

 as much accuracy and speed as when the 

 sun, in its northern brilliancy, shone from 

 the cloudless heavens. 



Then a greater mystery still about these 

 strangely gifted men came to me as a reve- 



