WITH BRUTES 81

weakest or least vicious would come maimed and
often useless for the rest of the journey.

Then the missionary and his companions themselves
have their own frugal meal, the most prominent
condiment of which is often the stinking smoke of the

- bivouack fire. The eyes of the white man protest

against it, his stomach wishes for better food; but one
is not a missionary to be comfortable or have one’s
fill, especially when on the wing.

After a few moments of rest, every one is up again

at one after midnight; the travellers’’ partake of a
mouthful of food and a cup of sooty coffee,'® and off
they go at half-past one. Guided by the twinkling of
the stars, they cross the divide which separates the
Stuart Lake and Fraser Lake basins; so that progress
is now a little easier because often down hill. Further
on, the better beaten track and wider trail tell of the
proximity of the village. ‘‘Too! too! too!” cries out
the driver with a peculiar trembling of the lips, and
the dogs run and bark in the highest glee as they foresee
the end of their trip.

A halt is called at the village for the first real meal
of the day: none too soon, it is two p.m. Then a new
team of dogs is put to the harness, which immediately
exhibits before the other dogs of the place what it can
do over the ice of Fraser Lake.

““ Marche! marche!”’ is the urging cry used by every-
body, English as well as French or Indians, in the
North, and some drivers possess quite a formidable
array of French words which they hurl like so many

14 Especially as the priest’s team is made up of dogs which are not
used to work together, each one being lent him by one of the families
of the place to which he is repairing.

15 The dogs are then given nothing to eat, else they would become

lazy and could not be made to run.
16 Father Morice could never get accustomed to the taste of tea.