A dog covering 200 yards in 12 seconds gallops at the rate of 16 yards 24 inches a second; in 13 seconds, 15 yards 14 inches, and in 14 seconds, 14 yards 10⅓ inches.
The Sled Dogs of Alaska
Between the laborer who earns his daily bread by the sweat of his brow, and the spoiled favorite of fortune who neither toils nor spins, there is not more difference than between the workers of the North—the Sled Dogs of Alaska—and the pampered, fur-coated, jewel-hung dogs “in society”; dogs who have their silk-lined baskets, their gold-mounted toilet articles, and the exclusive services of a personal attendant. But “Dogs is Dogs,” and the unhappy accident of birth that gives to such a dog the humiliating experience of having his teeth brushed by a maid, or a massage of cold cream after a bath in a silver-plated tub, should not be held against him—for he may still retain some of his admirable, lovable canine qualities through the human veneer.
A dog’s intelligence and his faithful, affectionate nature are his chief assets in his association with man; and if he preserves these in spite of his artificial surroundings as a mere toy, his development along those lines is almost unlimited when he becomes a co-worker with his master, and a devoted comrade through adversity and peril.
Incident in the Ziegler Polar Expedition, 1903–5
Mr. Anthony Fiala with His Dog Teams—Lat. 82° N.
Far beyond the Aleutian Islands, which stretch a grim barrier between the North Pacific and Bering Sea, almost to the bleak coast of Siberia, there lies that part of Alaska not familiar to the average tourist. The Alaska of primeval forests, of great, almost unknown rivers, of vast areas of snow and ice that reach to the desolate shore of the Arctic—the Alaska of the Dogs; and here in the “Land that God forgot,” the dog holds a unique place as an indispensable factor in the settlement of the country.
He discovered the North Pole with Peary; he discovered the South Pole and the Northwest Passage, too, with Amundsen; and he played a pathetic yet heroic part in the brave, if futile, efforts of Captain Scott to reach his goal; just as he has ever played well his role of support to those who have sought to penetrate the trackless wastes at the ends of the earth.
Late in October, usually under leaden skies, nearly the entire population of Nome stands upon a dreary beach watching the last boat of the open season, the “Victoria,” steam slowly out through a sea already heavy with young ice, and disappear in the misty grayness of the horizon. The parting salute of the ship’s siren has been answered by all of the town whistles; and then as if to add the fitting climax to the gloom of the occasion, it seems that every dog within hearing raises his voice to join in a mournful farewell chorus—a blood-curdling wail that is characteristic of these Northern dogs with their strong wolf strain.
