MY FIRST WINTER TRIP
Now, the driver of a dog-sleigh must do all the holding back going down hill; must right the sleigh when it upsets; keep it from upsetting along sidehills, and often push up hills; and, besides all this, urge and drive the dogs, and do all he can to make good time.
This was my first real winter trip with dogs, and I very soon found it to be no sinecure, but, on the contrary, desperately hard work.
Many a time that first day I wished myself back at the Mission.
The hauling of wood, the racing across to the fort—all that had been as child's play; this was earnest work, and tough at that.
The big load would cause my sleigh to upset; my snow-shoes would likewise cause me to upset. The dogs began to think—indeed, soon knew—I was a "tenderfoot," and they played on me.
Yonder was William, making a bee-line for the north, and stepping as if he were going to reach the pole, and that very soon, and Mr. Sinclair was close behind him; and I, oh! where was I, but far behind? Both spirit and flesh began to weaken.
Then we stopped on an island and made a fire; that is, father and the men had the fire about made when I came up. Father looked mischievous. I had bothered him to let me go on this trip.
However, the tea and pemmican made me feel better for a while, and away we went for the second spell, between islands, across portages, down forest-fringed rivers and bluffs casting sombre shadows. On my companions seemed to fly, while I dragged behind. Oh, how heavy those snow-shoes! Oh, how lazy those dogs! Oh, how often that old sleigh did upset! My! I was almost in a frenzy with mortification at my failure to be what I had presumed to think I was. But I did not seem to have enough spirit left to get into a frenzy about anything.