112 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



Then the way led us uphill, and I knew that 

 we had left the sea ice and were on the land. 

 There followed a cold and dreary hour of 

 bumping and jolting over rocks and up sudden 

 little cliffs, while the men were constantly out 

 of sight in the storm ; then the driver's voice 

 said " Ah," and the dogs stopped. " Stopped " 

 is hardly expressive enough : at the word 

 their legs seemed to collapse under them, 

 and they curled themselves up where they 

 dropped. 



Happily we had stopped close to a straggling 

 bush, so I was able to cut some twigs for a 

 fire without any risk of losing myself. I lit 

 my fire in a niche of the rock, and put on a 

 kettleful of snow, and then stamped up and 

 down to get a little warmth into me. On my 

 way to the snow house I trod on what looked 

 like a mound of snow in the river bed. The 

 mound got up and yelped, and I saw that I 

 was among the dogs. They were peacefully 

 blanketed by the snow, content to remain 

 buried until the drivers woke them up in the 

 morning. The one I had trodden on settled 

 down again as soon as he found that the dis- 

 turbance was neither the signal for work nor 

 the beginning of a fight, and in a few moments 

 he was, to all intents and purposes, a snow- 

 covered stone as before. 



