318 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



work. Cheers from the fort gates bid trappers setting out for far 

 northern fields God-speed. Long ago there would have been a 

 firing of cannon when the northern hunters left for their distant 

 camping-grounds ; but the cannon of Churchill lie rusting to-day 

 and the hunters who go to the sub-Arctics and the Arctics no longer 

 set out from" Churchill on the bay, but from one of the little inland 

 MacKenzie River posts. If the fine powdery snow-drifts are 

 glossed with the ice of unbroken sun-glare, the runners strap iron 

 crampets to their snow-shoes, and with a great jingling of the dog- 

 bells, barking of the huskies, and yelling of the drivers, coast away 

 for the leagueless levels of the desolate North. Frozen river-beds 

 are the only path followed, for the high cliffs — almost like ram- 

 parts on the lower MacKenzie — shut off the drifting east winds 

 that heap barricades of snow in one place and at another sweep 

 the ground so clear that the sleighs pull heavy as stone. Does a 

 husky fag ? A flourish of whips and off the laggard scampers, 

 keeping pace with the others in the traces, a pace that is set for 

 forty miles a day with only one feeding time, nightfall when the 

 sleighs are piled as a wind-break and the frozen fish are doled out to 

 the ravenous dogs. Gun signals herald the hunter's approach to a 

 chance camp ; and no matter how small and mean the tepee, the 

 door is always open for whatever visitor, the meat pot set simmer- 

 ing for hungry travellers. When the snow crust cuts the dog's 

 feet, buckskin shoes are tied on the huskies ; and when an occa- 

 sional dog fags entirely, he is turned adrift from the traces to die. 

 Relentless as death is northern cold ; and wherever these long mid- 

 winter journeys are made, gruesome traditions are current of hunter 

 and husky. 



I remember hearing of one old husky that fell hopelessly lame 

 during the north trip. Often the drivers are utter brutes to their 

 dogs, speaking in curses which they say is the only language a husky 

 can understand, emphasized with the blows of a club. Too often, 

 as well, the huskies are vicious curs ready to skulk or snap or bolt or 

 fight, anything but work. But in this case the dog was an old 



