By nine the next morning we were off again. The next halt was an Indian igloo thirty miles below. Before we had gone a third of the way my legs began to pain me so that I walked with difficulty. One of them was strained by a fall on the ice the night before, and I was in absolute torture all day. It was my first real suffering. Finally, when we had gone about fifteen miles, as it was getting dark and we did not care for a repetition of the previous night's experience, we made camp. Cogan had a tent and stove, and his companion was a "rustler." A patch of snow was soon scraped off and the tent put up. But it took a long time to heat the interior above the freezing point. Too much of the exterior gets into a tent.
It was forty degrees below zero that night and the next day. After one has perspired a good deal during the day he soon chills when he stops, if he forgets to put on more clothes. I had a big reindeer parka and also a pair of huge deerskin mittens. Without the latter I should surely have frozen my hands. The dogs ate up Cox's leather-covered mittens, and I gave him one of my pairs. The pair I wore got soaked with sweat and then froze on my hands as hard as a rock. If I had not happened to have the deerskin mitts to change with, I might have lost a few of my extra fingers. Cox did blister his. Colclough got up some hot flapjacks and bacon and we were filled. I slept in the parka and kept pretty warm. The rest occupied the big deerskin sleeping bag, which is the only safe bed in an Arctic camp.
The Jesse Lou Camp.
CHAPTER XIII.
O
OUR midwinter trip for the mail was a chapter in our icy history never to be forgotten. We made the next fifteen miles to the Indian Igloo in good time. Cox and I slept in the igloo, but the rest in the tent. The fourth day we made the last fifteen miles to the Kotzebue Camp, where the sled and mail had been left. Besides the mail, there were two pipes about twenty feet long and weighing perhaps one hundred pounds each. Then there were our blankets and extra clothes and dog food, bringing the return load up to four hundred pounds for our six dogs. Cogan and Colclough went on down to the Riley wreck with all their belongings, so we hail no stove or tent for the return trip, trusting to good weather in making the long stretches. There is only one cabin at the Kotzebue Camp, and this a very small one, but we managed to find room to lie down somewhere. We also made a big stew of canned beef, dessicated potatoes and onions, with lots of pepper and sage. It was good and stimulating, and upon this we based our courage. It was a fine base. We found the load pretty heavy for the dogs, one of which wasn't of much account, and our progress was slow. Where the snow was deep and the trail rough we had to help some ourselves. An animal with four feet has much advantage over a human with but two. We made the return trip in three days, fifteen miles from the Kotzebue Camp to the igloo, thirty miles from the igloo to the Jesse Lou, and fifteen miles from there to the Penelope Camp, making one hundred and twenty miles in seven days. By the third day out my limbs became accustomed to the hard walking and my lameness disappeared. The thirty-mile stretch we made in twelve hours, starting from the igloo before daylight. The northern lights were not visible during our return trip, although previously one could read by them. The cold was not excessive nor did we meet with any terrible accidents, but I will record that I have had enough of winter travel in the Arctics. I am of the same mind as Hard-luck Jimmy, who, after attempting to reach the site of the "latest strike" and getting caught out in a snowstorm, said in his slow, comprehensive manner of speech: "It would take all the men in Ambler City with a great big hawser to pull me away from my warm cabin and grub again this winter."
Winter Travelers.
The thirty-mile stretch of our road was long. So change of scenery for entertainment. When we got around one bend in the river it was just to plod along until we got to the next. It took three hours for us to cover one straight piece of trail. We ate nothing that day but a little frozen bread. We had nothing to cook, and there was no time to cook it if we had, and no dishes or stove. But we were served to a fine supper at the Jesse Lou. The dogs did finely that day. We gave them a feed in the morning before starting. Usually dogs are fed but once a day, at night, and then only about one pound of frozen or dried fish to the animal. At night we let the dogs loose and, if at a village, they forage around for scraps of anything, which of course are extra rations. They steal any provisions left unprotected. They ate Cox's leather mittens, the thongs on Cogan's snowshoes, and a leather gun case. One night they broke into the "grub-box." and got away with everything in it, including a sack of oatmeal and a side of bacon. Owing to their preference for leather, we had to sleep on the harnesses and with our heads on the "grub-box." These Eskimo dogs look just like wolves, but are docile and often playful. They do not bark like civilized dogs, but snarl and growl. Some nights they would howl in concert for hours at a time, making a weird sensation in the silence of the ice.