All Through Our Voyage Up Great Slave Lake We Daily Heard The Sad
Howling Of Abandoned Dogs, And Nightly, We Had To Take Steps To
Prevent Them Stealing Our Food And Leathers.
More than once in the
dim light, I was awakened by a rustle, to see sneaking from my tent
the gray, wolfish form of some prowling dog, and the resentment I
felt at the loss inflicted, was never more than to make me shout
or throw a pebble at him.
One day, as we voyaged eastward (July 23) in the Tal-thel-lay
narrows of Great Slave Lake, we met 5 canoes and 2 York boats of
Indians going west. A few hours afterward as, we were nooning on
an island (we were driven to the islands now) there came a long
howling from the rugged main shore, a mile away to the east of
us; then it increased to a chorus of wailing, and we knew that the
Indians had that morning abandoned their dogs there. The wailing
continued, then we saw a tiny black speck coming from the far
shore. When it was half-way across the ice-cold bay we could hear
the gasps of a tired swimmer. He got along fairly, dodging the cakes
of ice, until within about 200 yards, when his course was barred
by a long, thin, drifting floe. He tried to climb on it, but was
too weak, then he raised his voice in melancholy howls of despair.
I could not get to him, but he plucked up heart at length, and
feebly paddling went around till he found an opening, swam through
and came on, the slowest dog swimmer I ever saw.
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