low bark, with which they announce the presence of wolves. We had a box
of Coston night signals close at hand in the igloo, and, knowing that a
light frightens them away, made a small hole in the igloo and thrust
out a "distress" signal with the most brilliant result. Toolooah was
already dressed and outside the igloo as the light started, and said
the wolves stopped and looked at it for a second and then fled in
dismay, each change of color in the signal light seeming to lend
additional wings to their flying feet. We saw them prowling around
during the next day's march, but they kept at a respectful distance.
During our entire trip the Coston signals served us a good purpose in
keeping the wolves from our doors, though I don't remember that the
prospectus mentioned this application as one of the advantages of
keeping the signals on hand.

On the 14th of April the thermometer rose above the freezing-point in
the middle of the day for the first time, and as we remained in camp
while the hunters went ahead to pick out a better road, we gladly
embraced the opportunity to dry our stockings. It is one of the
greatest discomforts of Arctic travel that the exercise of walking wets
one's fur stockings with perspiration. At night they freeze, and it is
anything but an agreeable sensation to put bare feet into stockings
filled with ice, which is a daily experience in winter travelling. But
it is astonishing how soon one gets accustomed to that sort of thing,
and how little he minds it after a while. The warmth of the feet soon
thaws the ice, and then a wet stocking is nearly as warm as a dry one,
except in the wind. During the next day we were passing through a high
rolling country, but with plenty of snow and not bad sledging. We found
the descent of the hills always greater than the ascent, and presumed
that we were approaching the bed of Wager River, as our route crossed
the lower branch of that river, as mapped, well down toward the fork.