340 
FOREST AND STREAM. 

ist, or in a general scrimmage. It was some- 
times amusing to watch Keskayoo while being 
fed, both at Forth Simpson and at the various 
posts on the above-described journey. A _ big 
“bully” among visiting teams at the former (the 
fort dogs let him severely alone) or the “cock 
of the walk” at some one of the latter, judging 
him by his small size, would brazenly come 
along and attempt to rob him of his fish or 
meat, but almost in a twinkling of the eye the 
assailant would be sprawling on his_ back, 
severely bitten, retiring afterward quite crest- 
fallen, with his tail between his legs. The un- 
expected suddenness and strength of the attack 
seemed to completely disconcert the would-be 
robber. It was seldom, indeed, that a second 
attempt of this kind was made at the same place. 
Previous to the abandonment of Fort Ander- 
son, early in July, 1866, it frequently surprised 
me to witness the joyful greeting which took 
place between the mother and surviving off- 
spring of both litters when they met after days 
or weeks of necessary separation. Indeed, they 
were constantly together whenever possible. 
Two of the later litter died of distemper and 
the old mother herself perished a couple of 
months after giving birth to four beautiful pups 
in her third and final confinement. Unfortu- 
nately, they were accidentally frozen to death 
in December, 1865. 
Keskayoo was exceedingly quick and active 
in moments of attack or defense, while the pro- 
tection afforded by his own remarkable .long- 
haired and densely thick fur skin-covering 
rendered it almost impossible for any dog’s 
teeth to meet in any vulnerable portion of his 
body. Poor Keskayoo died during my first 
brief visit to the old land in 1870. He was a 
wonderful little animal; he never seemed tired 
or weary; he was always ready and willing to 
follow the track beater, or the sled ahead of 
him; for three-fourths of the entire journey he 
acted as foregoer or leader of his own team. 
Years of association with these dogs naturally 
brings about an almost human regard or affec- 
tion for them, and their death frequently seems 
a personal loss. 
Although much more of an interesting nature 
might be related of this and other northern 
hauling dogs, the writer will conclude with a 
few remarks regarding the appearance of what, 
from the perceptible symptoms, must have been 
English dog distemper. In summer it was usual 
to send the Fort Simpson dogs to Big Island at 
the west end of Great Slave Lake, where fish 
are more or less abundant all the year round, 
to be well fed until the autumn. Early in 
October, 1869; my team of dogs arrived with the 
first fish boat from that point; but, to my deep 
regret, I found that two of the best had been 
ill for over a week and utterly unable to walk 
or even stand up, and they had to be carried 
from the river to a picketed yard adjoining the 
officers’ residence. Their hinder parts seemed 
to be entirely paralyzed. As they were strong 
and tried animals, I naturally desired to have 
them with me on my then contemplated trip to 
Fort Garry (now Winnipeg City). Knowing 
that there were several boxes of Holloway’s 
celebrated pills among the post’s store of med- 
icines, I determined to test their vaunted virtues 
by ascertaining if they were equally efficient in 
canine, as they claimed to be in human ills. I 
began by giving them each a dose of five pills, 
night and morning. After one week’s course 
I reduced the number to three, and at the end 
of the fortnight there was a perceptible im- 
provement, which became more marked and as- 
suring as the weeks went by. About the middle 
of November I began to harness and drive them 
slowly around. The two convalescents stag- 
gered a great deal, and this continued for some 
days; but a short time prior to our departure, 
on Novy. 30, 1869, they had nearly recovered and 
were able, with the others, to make daily runs 
of several miles at a very good pace. The im- 
provement continued, and I think they became 
almost as strong and untiring as ever. Some 
of the fort residents all along asserted that they 
could not recover ‘fully or stand the long 
journey; but I, who had much previous knowl- 
edge of their staying powers, was of a different 
opinion, and the result proved that I was right. 
Hare Indian Dog. 
Canis lagopus (Richardson). 
This animal is more or less typical of the in- 
digenous Indian dog of the far north of Canada. 
It is not so stout or strong as the Eskimo dog, 
but many individuals can endure a vast amount 
of hardship in the shape of heavy sleigh and 
packing work with but little to eat. It 1s even 
more necessary for the Indians, especially the 
so-called ‘‘caribou eaters” (as the latter move 
and travel about in ‘winter following the rein- 
deer) than is the case with their brethren who 
subsist chiefly on fish, rabbits, beaver, and 
moose. The Eskimos, with the exception of 
roving traders from the west and Alaskan coast 
of North America, do not make any very ex- 
tensive excursions during the winter season. 
In birth, traits, habits and liability to epidemics 
there are no material differences between it and 
Canis familiaris borealis, nor, for that matter. 
with the rather mongrel breed or introduced 
varieties of hauling dogs used by the company, 
missionaries, and the “freemen” of the interior. 
I might also mention that I have heard of one 
or two instances of English distemper having 
appeared among inland dogs. 
Woman’s Work. 
THE chase was over. It had been a good 
hunt. Many fat cows had been killed in the sur- 
round, and all through the afternoon loads of 
meat had been coming into the camp, piled be- 
hind the hunters on their untiring horses; or on 
the backs of the pack ponies, led by the women. 
The children followed their mothers who led the 
pack horses, and after the children trotted the 
dogs, round and swollen from having gorged 
themselves on the carcasses. Many of the 
women were smeared with blood and grease to 
their elbows, and their clothing was soiled by 
the work of butchering. Even the dresses of 
the most careful young girls were spattered here 
and there with blood. 
As each horse stopped before its owner’s 
lodge, the women went about it, untied the 
ropes, and the load fell to the ground with a dull 
sound. Then the horse was unsaddled and 
turned loose. The meat was piled up close to 
the lodge, and covered with the hide, on the 
edges of which were placed logs and stones, to 
hold it down. There was no danger that the 
dogs, after their full feed, would disturb it for 
this night. 
All in the camp were weary with the labors 
performed during the day; and all were hungry, 
too. While the men rested, after their long 
ride and the work of the killing the buffalo, the 
women began to cook; and soon all the people 
in the camp were eating. A little later the sun 
went down. To-night there would be no danc- 
ing, no gambling; all longed for rest. So weary 
was the camp, so sound its sleep on such a 
night that, should enemies come to the camp, 
there would be slight danger of their being de- 
tected; they might take all the best horses. 
Early in the morning the women were 
astir. No sooner was the first meal under way 
than they began the labor of caring for the 
provisions that had been brought in the day 
before. Seated in front of the lodges, with 
sharp knives and whetstones, they divided the 
meat into thin flakes, and spread it on the poles 
of the drying scaffolds, to cure and harden in 
the sun and the dry wind. After the meat had 
been disposed of, the bones were broken, and 
the fragments were placed in pots to boil, and 
.as they boiled, the grease which rose from them 
was skimmed off, and put away in bladders for 
future use. The more perishable parts of the 
animal being thus disposed of, the hides must be 
looked after. This was woman’s work, a part of 
her share in the life of the old plains. 
The skins were used, according to season, fora 
variety of purposes. The winter hide, tanned 
and softened with the hair on, formed the 
warmest possible covering against the winter’s 
cold, and served as quilt or bedding to sleep on. 
In summer, when the hair was thin and robes 
could not be made, the same process of tanning 
was gone through, but the hair was taken off, 
[MarcH 3, 1906. 


and the dressed hide constituted the sheet 
worn in summer, or was made into leggings, 
or women’s dresses; or, sewn together with a 
number of other hides, made the covering for 
the conical lodges, which were the, dwellings of 
the nomadic tribes. The dressing of the hide 
was done largely by the older women. Their 
larger expérience enabled them to do the work 
better than those who were younger; and each 
was anxious to have her work done well, pre- 
cisely as the civilized housewife wishes to have 
her house and her clothing as good as those of 
any of her neighbors. No doubt, too, each 
old woman worked at this labor from force of 
habit, and, from long use had come to take so: 
much interest in the work, that she found a 
pleasure in it. 
Although to the civilized eye all hides looked 
substantially alike, the practiced hide dresser 
knew and recognized great differences among 
them. Sometimes a hide would be rejected for 
some fault which would not be apparent to a 
man; but when a woman found a hide that 
suited her, she spread it out on the ground, and 
looked it over with care. On the inside it was 
livid white where the skin could be seen, but 
clinging to it were much blood and many strips 
of flesh that had been left on it in the haste of 
skinning. The woman dragged the hide to a 
place of smooth level ground, near the lodge, 
and spread it out, flesh side up. Then, return- 
ing to her lodge, she felt about under the bed 
until she found the heavy stone maul, which in 
ancient times served equally the purpose of ax 
and hammer, but which in later years was used 
chiefly to drive into the ground the pins which 
held down the lodge covering, to smash in the 
skull of the buffalo, to get at the brains, or to 
break the large bones to secure the precious 
marrow. Somewhere under the bed, or behind 
it, or beneath the back-rest at its head or foot, 
was a parfleche, one of those oblong, raw- 
hide cases, shaped and made somewhat like the 
envelopes in which we send our letters; this was. 
dragged forth, the raw-hide lacing loosened, 
and the woman drew out from it twenty stout 
wooden pins, of birch or willow, sharpened at 
one end, and a foot or more long. She now 
returned to the hide, and threw these things 
down by it, and, seating herself, drew her knife 
from its sheath and began to make holes in the 
hide, close to its border, all around the margin. 
The holes made, she passed the pins through 
them, and drove each pin into the ground, 
stretching out the hide to its fullest extent, yet 
keeping it of the same shape that it had had 
before the pins were introduced. It was thus 
longer from head to tail than from side to side. 
Often after the hide was thus stretched it would 
be necessary to move a half dozen of the pins, 
so as to make the pull equal all over the hide, 
so that it should dry evenly. The work took 
time, and was more or less laborious. It in- 
volved much getting up and sitting down, much 
pulling of the hide, and hammering of the pins 
into hard earth. When all had been done to 
her satisfaction, she rose with a sigh of relief, 
stood for a moment looking at the hide, and 
then returned to the lodge. No doubt there 
were other people in it, perhaps the men who 
to-day had not gone out to hunt, and certainly 
the woman of the lodge, and a number of 
children. The old woman was too busy to stop 
with them and gossip; her mind was now on 
her hide, and she felt that she must work at it 
without delay. From some other nook or 
cranny, under or behind her bed, she drew out 
a flesher made from the hock bone of the buf- 
falo, beveled down below to a thin edge, and 
there notched; or possibly made of an old gun 
barrel, split for five or six inches of its length, 
hammered out flat, and then notched with a 
file, its border toothed. With this, and a kettle 
of water, and a piece of parfleche, she returned 
to the hide. Already in some places its sur- 
face had become seared by the heat of the sun, 
and it was necessary that these dry spots should 
be moistened again. Filling her mouth with 
water from the kettle, she spurted it over the 
hide in various places, and rubbed the water in 
with her hand until all these dry surfaces had 
become wet. Then, kneeling down and grasping 
the flesher in the right hand, she began to strike 
