252 



ON 



SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



ESKIMO SHOE, 

 18 inches long, Hudson's Strait 



While the mess was being stowed away, two Indians, 

 armed with sticks of fire-wood, guarded the entrance of 

 the lodge against the dogs, and several of us from the 

 inside plied our whip-stocks on those dogs that in their 



ravenous hunger threw them- 

 selves on the lodge from with- 

 out, in a mad effort to reach 

 the meat and offal within. 



Three days more we head- 

 ed northward in the severest 

 weather yet encountered. It 

 snowed practically all the time, 

 and the wind whistled dolorous- 

 ly and by reason of its own ve- 

 locity, for of course there was 

 not a blessed twig or brush to 



prompt its shrill shrieking. The country seemed a little 

 flatter, with great stretches rolling away into undula- 

 tions of more or less prominence, and rather larger lakes 

 and fewer rocky ridges than we had seen. We made 

 long days, starting at sunrise and not camping until 

 about half -past seven. We saw some caribou, but got 

 only two. And the days wore on monotonously, and try- 

 ingly, too, for even greater than the pangs of hunger in 

 my stomach was the constant dread in my mind that 

 the Indians would become disheartened over the difficul- 

 ties we were facing and turn back. And that would 

 mean failure of my long, weary journey. So, when we 

 stopped for a pipe, and threw ourselves to the leeward 

 of our sledges for protection from the storms, I sang and 

 tried to exhibit an indifference I did not feel to the 

 obstacles besetting our progress. At night, when we 

 camped, I sang some more, and tried to whistle, hop- 

 ing by my actions to shame the Indians from showing 



