DOGS GIVE OUT 198 



tained of spending the following summer right 

 over on the Arctic coast. 



Two entries in my diary at this date refer to 

 the condition of my dogs : 



" November 28. — Snowstorm all day drift- 

 ing wickedly on a strong east-wind blizzard. 

 Onward throughout the day, crouching like dis- 

 tressed animals, we fought our way ahead over 

 shelterless lakes. Peesu, one of my dogs, will 

 not eat to-night, so utterly done-up is the poor 

 brute. He lies in his lair in the snow, unwilling 

 even to raise his head. I finally coaxed him to 

 swallow a few tit-bits of dried meat ere turning 

 in to sleep. 



" November 30. — Off on the trail at daylight. 

 Meadowsteuce — my lead-dog — dying, and had to 

 be destroyed before leaving. Peesu somewhat 

 recovered, but he, and Musquaw, and Whisky 

 are all lame. I have but one sound dog. Travel- 

 ling in yesterday's blizzard was too much for 

 them. Some of the Indians' dogs are exhausted 

 also." 



I fancy no one cares to give up and admit a 

 total, or certain amount of, defeat in the midst 

 of furthering a big enterprise ; it is indeed heart- 

 breaking to do so : and yet one can be so over- 

 whelmed by circumstances that it becomes foolish 

 to go on, and wise to bow to the grim hand of 

 Fate. 



Though there were difficulties lying before me 

 on the foodless, snow-covered wastes of the 

 Barren Grounds, these were possible to surmount 

 in time, but I could in no way, in this land where 



