330 THE LIFE OF E. J. PECK 



three dogs left out of seven. This mysterious com 

 plaint is thinning the dogs out on every hand. We 

 started with ten ; one died, another ran away, 

 and the remainder are hardly able to move along. 

 My man consequently goes ahead to lead the weary 

 creatures through the drift. I, on the other hand, 

 stop by the sledge. I shout, and shove, and pull, 

 and help the dogs as much as I can, and so we 

 manage to get along. Sometimes, however, we 

 come to a complete standstill. Sledge and dogs get 

 fast in a bank of snow. Now I have to beat down 

 the snow in front of sledge, and with some mighty 

 shoves, which strain every muscle in one's body, 

 and with a number of regular war cries, which startle 

 if they do nothing else the tired dogs, we are 

 again on the move. About 2 p.m. we fortunately 

 saw some old sledge tracks. Our poor dogs 

 brightened up wonderfully. Sledge tracks are to 

 them what one may call Arctic roads roads which 

 lead them sooner or later to a place of rest. Arrived 

 at Blacklead Island about 4 p.m. Mr. J. Mutch 

 (Mr. Noble's chief agent) received me most kindly, 

 and a welcome repast, which he had most thought 

 fully provided, seemed to put new life and vigour 

 into my weary frame. I was also greatly cheered 

 to notice the kindly spirit of the poor Eskimos. 

 Several of the men, I ought to mention, came down 

 on the ice to help our dogs up the rugged shore ice 

 to the level space beyond. F spent the remainder 



