THE DOGS 275 



that each time the track spells the shadow of death. A 

 settler told me the story of a doe caribou which, in the early 

 summer of 1906, he saw brought to bay on the middle of 

 a pond by a single wolf. The ice had thawed out, and it 

 was necessary for the wolf to swim off to get at the deer. 

 The wolf, after long hesitation in taking to the water, 

 which it apparently hates, swam off, fought the caribou, 

 and though repeatedly knocked down by her fore hoofs, 

 at last pulled her down. 



Our dogs, taking the scent of a caribou trail, even when 

 in harness, will forget all discipline, and they will almost 

 tear a komatik and driver to pieces in their eagerness to 

 give chase. I have known of a team that thus ran away, 

 and some of them never came back. In all probability they 

 had been killed, for an Eskimo dog never loses his way. 



The dogs very seldom perish for want of food, and then 

 only under circumstances of an extraordinary nature, such 

 as being adrift on the floe-ice. The Eskimo dog takes 

 kindly to the water in summer. He will go in fearlessly 

 after fish. When the caplin run ashore, the dogs, half 

 starved after the winter (like most of the other animals), 

 almost live in the water, eating their fill till they are like 

 ambulatory barrels. I have watched them patiently hunt- 

 ing flatfish in shallow water. They dive their heads under 

 water when they feel the fish wriggle under their feet. 

 Twice I have had half-breed dogs who would dive to the 

 bottom in two to two and a half fathoms of water, and bring 

 up stones wrapped in white paper. This accomplishment 

 served me well on one occasion. From the edge of the 

 shore ice I had shot a seal swimming in the open water 

 alongside. My leading dog, which I unharnessed, dived 



