The leader of the team is a dog selected for his intelligence, and is one known as setting an example of constant industry under all circumstances. You will always see the leader of a team of dogs working as if the load was being drawn by him alone. He goes along, his head bent over and tugging in his harness, his mouth open and tongue lolling out, while his ears are ever ready to hear the word of command from the driver. To go to the left, the command is given, "Ah'-root," and to the right, "Why-ah'-wah-ha." Then he sometimes, to encourage or urge to greater exertion, says, "Ah-wah-hagh-oo-ar." To stop the team he says "Woah," as one says when driving horses. It is the noisiest method of travel yet invented, for the driver is constantly talking to his team, calling each by name, and usually following the word with a blow of the whip, so that the next time that dog is spoken to, he will understand that it means "hurry up." The conversation with a dog team is incessant, and the work of the driver is not confined to his team alone. He has to constantly keep watch over the front of the sled, to turn it to the right or left in order to avoid hummocks or stones that would upset the load or tear the ice from the bottom of the runners.
Inuits are fond of riding on the sled while travelling, and as long as there is a spot that would hold one they will pile up there. But should there be no place for them, they will run alongside without apparent discomfort for almost any length of time or distance. This is equally true of the children of both sexes, and when any are compelled to walk, for lack of dogs or of room on the sled, it is the women and girls who have to give way to the men and boys. With a light sled, and from nine to fifteen good strong dogs, the Esquimaux of North Hudson's Bay will sometimes make a journey of from eighty to one hundred miles during the long days of spring. A light sled has reference to one with nothing on it except the skins for the beds, a lamp and small quantity of oil, with not more than one or two days' rations of food. The same number of dogs will drag a sled, with about fifteen hundred pounds of load, at the rate of three or four miles an hour over the smooth salt-water ice and snow. When travelling with light sleds all the party ride, except when necessary to run for the purpose of getting warm. In travelling, and especially when starting from a halt, some one runs ahead of the team so as to get them to pull together. When the sleds are heavily loaded the start is effected in the same way, and the driver, gathering the reins in his hands, pulls back with all his might until he sees every dog straining against his collar, when he lets go his hold and all spring forward together.
It often happens that there are not a sufficient number of dogs, or that they are poor and unable to travel with sufficient rapidity, and then the people have to put on harness and help. First the women and children engage in this labor, and, lastly, the men. And the drivers will sit on the sled and smoke, with the utmost composure, while their wives and daughters are tugging in the harness. The women do not mind this treatment, for they are accustomed to it and look upon it as the proper thing. In the summer the Esquimaux use their dogs while travelling as pack animals, and a stranger would be astonished to see what loads these dogs will carry. I have seen a fine large dog that would carry two saddles of reindeer meat, or the entire fore-quarters of two reindeer. His back would be bent low beneath the burden he bore, but still he would struggle along, panting the while and regarding his master with a look of the deepest affection whenever he came near him yet ever ready to fight any other dog that got in his way.
These, then, were the faithful comrades of our march. Before the day appointed by Lieutenant Schwatka they were ready. We were all eager to start. The projected journey was one which more than one expedition had undertaken without success since Sir Leopold McClintock's memorable sledge journey, which accomplished so much, and left so much to be desired. We were determined to bring it to a successful issue. Our igloo life at Camp Daly during the previous winter had inured us to the climate, so that, though we often found the cold intensely disagreeable, we were free from the evil consequences that have assailed many expeditions and make Arctic travel so dangerous, though few have been exposed to such low temperature as was our party, especially during the return trip in the winter of 1879-80. Previous sledge journeys had taught us how to clothe ourselves and otherwise provide against the cold, and we had already become acquainted with Inuit fare, so that when the emergency arrived when we were compelled to subsist entirely upon such food, we did not regard it with that repugnance that those would who had not become accustomed to it. In other words, we had become thoroughly acclimated during the eight months we had already lived in the country.
CHAPTER IV.
IN THE SLEDGES.
It was eleven o'clock on the morning of the 1st of April when the three heavily laden sledges moved out from Camp Daly on to the shore ice of Hudson's Bay, and commenced the long march toward King William Land. Lieutenant Schwatka's preliminary sledge journey in the direction of Wager River, during midwinter, had determined him upon taking that route, though across land entirely unknown either to previous explorers or to any natives with whom we had come in contact. Whether we would find practicable watercourses, such as rivers and lakes, or whether mountain ranges would oppose their granite walls to farther progress, was yet to be ascertained. Its recommendation was that it was the most direct course, and whatever obstacles it might present would, when overcome, always leave us that much nearer our goal. As we reached the smooth salt-water ice, we turned to take a last look at Camp Daly, which had been so long our home—a comfortless dwelling-place indeed, but for all that a home—and I never expect to lose a feeling of affection for its barren rocks and forbidding scenery. Its snow-clad hills were almost hidden behind the hummocks that everywhere bound the shore and make it a difficult undertaking to get on or off the ice at low tide. The loaded sledges were making but slow progress as they wound through the rough ice, but greatly enlivened the landscape, which at other times is dreary and monotonous in the extreme. The drivers, by voice and whip, were urging on their teams; while the dogs made the wilderness ring with howls of pain or impatience. The men were bending their shoulders to the task, as the women and children walked ahead and coaxed the dogs to greater exertion. It was not difficult, as we looked upon this picture, to realize that we were at least under way, and the work for which we had renounced the comforts of civilization for so long a period had at last begun, and our spirits rose with the prospect of action.
[Illustration: CAMP DALY IN WINTER.]
It was not Lieutenant Schwatka's intention to make a long march this day, but to break loose from camp and get well straightened out on our course. Our direction was due east until we reached Winchester Inlet, where we turned north-north-west and took up our line of march upon the frozen waters of the newly-named Connery River. The sun was setting when we halted about ten miles from Camp Daly and built two igloos, one of which was occupied by Toolooah's family and the four white men, the other by the remainder of the party. After the first night, however, there were always three igloos, Joe and Ishmark, his father-in-law, building a separate one for themselves and their families. There was at first some dissatisfaction manifested by the Inuits of the party at the determination of our commander to move always with the entire outfit, whenever practicable, and never to make portages or, in other words, transport a portion of the loads ahead before moving on with the remainder, unless absolutely forced so to do, and experience demonstrated the wisdom of his decision. Inuits always prefer to move by portages when they have heavy loads and plenty of food on the sledges, and such had been the custom on all the previous sledge journeys made by "Esquimau Joe" in company with white men. He particularly was anxious to travel in that way, but Lieutenant Schwatka was resolute, and many days and many dogs were saved to us thereby.
The party was composed of four white men, Lieutenant Frederick Schwatka, United States Army, commander; W. H. Gilder, second in command; Henry W. Klutschak, and Frank Melms, with thirteen Inuits, as follows: "Esquimau Joe," interpreter; Neepshark, his wife; Toolooah, dog driver and hunter; Toolooahelek, his wife, and one child; Equeesik (Natchillik Inuit), dog driver and hunter; Kutcheenuark, his wife, and one child; Ishmark, Karleko, his wife, Koomana, their son, aged about thirteen, and Mit-colelee and Owanork, Equeesik's brothers, aged respectively about twenty and thirteen. The sleds were drawn by forty-two dogs, accumulated by hard work, persistent effort, and overpowering liberality with regard to guns, ammunition, and other articles of trade. The loads aggregated about five thousand pounds on the day of starting; but a large part of this consisting of walrus meat, both for dogs and people they were materially lightened from day to day. Our provisions besides the walrus meat comprised—