THE DOGS 275 
that each time the track spells the shadow of death. A 
settler told me the story of a doe caribou which, in the early 
summer of 1906, he saw brought to bay on the middle of 
a pond by a single wolf. The ice had thawed out, and it 
was necessary for the wolf to swim off to get at the deer. 
The wolf, after long hesitation in taking to the water, 
which it apparently hates, swam off, fought the caribou, 
and though repeatedly knocked down by her fore hoofs, 
at last pulled her down. 
Our dogs, taking the scent of a caribou trail, even when 
in harness, will forget all discipline, and they will almost 
tear a komatik and driver to pieces in their eagerness to 
give chase. I have known of a team that thus ran away, 
and some of them never came back. In all probability they 
had been killed, for an Eskimo dog never loses his way. 
The dogs very seldom perish for want of food, and then 
only under circumstances of an extraordinary nature, such 
as being adrift on the floe-ice. The Eskimo dog takes 
kindly to the water in summer. He will go in fearlessly 
after fish. When the caplin run ashore, the dogs, half 
starved after the winter (like most of the other animals), 
almost live in the water, eating their fill till they are like 
ambulatory barrels. I have watched them patiently hunt- 
ing flatfish in shallow water. They dive their heads under 
water when they feel the fish wriggle under their feet. 
Twice I have had half-breed dogs who would dive to the 
bottom in two to two and a half fathoms of water, and bring 
up stones wrapped in white paper. This accomplishment 
served me well on one occasion. From the edge of the 
shore ice I had shot a seal swimming in the open water 
alongside. My leading dog, which I unharnessed, dived 
