I 7 o ON SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



my load was light, and my dogs better than theirs, I did 

 not ride, because I wished to save them as much as pos- 

 sible. So Beniah sped on ahead, and I followed on be- 

 hind, going easily, for my training had made me very fit. 

 And I had learned enough, too, to keep on my snow- 

 shoes, though the lake would have permitted going with- 

 out. Running on ice without snow-shoes has the same 

 effect on leg muscles as an unyielding armory floor after 

 a cinder-track. 



After four hours we came that night to Stony Island, 

 twenty-two miles from Resolution, where we camped, and 

 whose only interest for me lay in the fact that here, sev- 

 enty-five years before, Sir John Franklin had breakfasted 

 on the trip which closed so disastrously for his party. 

 We slept in a tiny cabin with thirteen others, men, wom- 

 en, and children, and I appreciated for the first time in 

 what filth human beings will wallow. 



Next morning several Indians joined us, and we put in 

 a long, hard day on the lake, out of sight of the shore 

 most of the time, I running, and all the Indians in carioles. 

 About 4.30 we came to a point where the Indians hauling 

 meat to Resolution had made a cache, and here we halted, 

 and a fire was lighted. I shall never forget my attempts 

 to learn how much farther on we were going that night. 

 I can now see myself sitting on the rocks, setting up min- 

 iature lodges in the snow with little twigs, and using my 

 few Dog-Rib words, con (fire), ctliar (far), supplemented 

 with numerous gestures, to ascertain if the lodge fire was 

 to be far away. My efforts created much amusement, 

 but drew no information, and I realized how very much 

 alone I was indeed. Nor shall I forget my amazement 

 and my relief at seeing another fire lighted not twenty 

 yards from the first, where we had eaten, and camp made 

 for the night. 



