158 SLED-DOGS OF THE NORTH TRAILS 



the unbounded silence of the northern night 

 with their wolf-like, melancholy dirge long- 

 drawn-out bowlings, one wow . . . 



wow. . . wow. . . oue Abruptly 



as the dogs commence, so is the wild call hushed, 

 after giving but a minute's utterance to the wild 

 sad spirit that has been handed down to them by 

 nameless forefathers from generation to genera- 

 tion. Particularly on stormy nights do those 

 strange animals show restlessness and their desire 

 to voice their wolf-howl to the whole world. 



They howl also in this same deep, melancholy 

 way when a permanent camp is broken up and 

 their masters embark in canoes for fresh hunting- 

 grounds. Then they will sit and howl their very 

 souls out before they bid good-bye to their old 

 haunts and follow the canoes along shore. It 

 may be that they howl in dread of the unknown 

 journey before them, or with wish to send their 

 dog-message of departure through shadowy 

 forest that holds the secrets of many wanderings 

 and of many wild things. Be that as it may, in 

 due course they depart, and commence the hard 

 task of following the canoes, for to keep in touch 

 they must at times swim from point to point of 

 deep bays, and cross wide rivers, and in a day 

 fall far behind in surmounting the difficulties 

 in their path. At night they may overtake their 

 masters. But only the robust and hardy dogs 

 get through with the canoes, for the weaklings 

 fall out and are lost, and may only reach camp 

 in a starved condition a week or two after the 

 others if they have been persistent and intelli- 

 gent in following the trail of their fellows. 



