So Charlie blew up his air-pillow, and crept in beside Nick, and Walt shared his bag with Nora. When Dr. Wright came out to look for his, he was one to the bad, and had to bend a fresh one.
But the dogs never stirred nor talked in their sleep, and so the boys heard nothing till Taffy’s bugle rang merrily out on the morning breeze.
The dogs ever after this persisted in being bagged. They looked upon it as their right.
When Dr. Wright was appealed to, he said, as the dogs were clean and comfortable, there could be no harm. He left it to themselves—to the boys he meant, not the dogs.
But during the dash into the interior, and all that followed, having the dogs bagged was found to be a good plan, because a Newfoundland or Collie dog gets massed with ice and snow, and, if lying out, he might perish. Anyhow, he would be frozen to the ground, and it would be found impossible to prise him up without great pain, danger, and loss of coat.
For bad weather these three pet dogs had well-made waterproofs, which covered even the heads, leaving room for the ears to come out.
Strange to say, a dog’s nose never gets frozen, and the hair between the well-soled pads prevents frost-bite.
In the snow this hair gets “balled” with hard snow, and cripples the poor fellow, so he comes wisely to his master to have the balls broken off, and is very grateful.
During the journey, Slap-dash came ingeniously to the dogs’ relief, and made them leggings.
A Newfoundland in seal-skin breeches would seem a curious sight to some. Well, laugh if you like, reader, but there they were.