The Arctic Prairies By Ernest Thompson Seton


















































































































































 -  The wailing
continued, then we saw a tiny black speck coming from the far
shore. When it was half-way - Page 70
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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. At last he struck bottom and crawled out. But he was too weak and ill to eat the meat that I had ready prepared for him. We left him with food for many days and sailed away.

Another of the dogs that tried to follow him across was lost in the ice; we heard his miserable wailing moans as he was carried away, but could not help him. My Indians thought nothing of it and were amused at my solicitude.

A couple of hours later we landed on the rugged east coast to study our course through the ice. At once., we were met by four dogs that trotted along the shore to where we landed. They did not seem very gaunt; one, an old yellow female, carried something in her mouth; this she never laid down, and growled savagely when any of the others came near. It proved to be the blood-stained leg of a new-killed dog, yellow like herself.

As we pulled out a big black-and-white fellow looked at us wistfully from a rocky ledge; memories of Bingo, whom he resembled not a little, touched me. I threw him a large piece of dried meat. He ate it, but not ravenously. He seemed in need, not of food, but of company.

A few miles farther on we again landed to study the lake; as we came near we saw the dogs, not four but six, now racing to meet us. I said to Preble: "It seems to me it would be the part of mercy to shoot them all." He answered: "They are worth nothing now, but you shoot one and its value would at once jump up to one hundred dollars. Every one knows everything that is done in this country. You would have six hundred dollars' damages to pay when you got back to Fort Resolution."

I got out our stock of fresh fish. The Indians, seeing my purpose, said: "Throw it in the water and see them dive." I did so and found that they would dive into several feet of water and bring up the fish without fail. The yellow female was not here, so I suppose she had stayed to finish her bone.

When we came away, heading for the open lake, the dogs followed us as far as they could, then gathering on a flat rock, the end of a long point, they sat down, some with their backs to us; all raised their muzzles and howled to the sky a heart-rending dirge.

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