heat.

"One night, Long and I smoked in the little road-house close by, but
Hartley went to his bunk in the tent and turned in. He had not slept,
but lay with closed eyes, he said, tryin' hard to get warm under his fur
robe; when the tent flap was brushed aside, and in rushed a mad dog,
snapping and foaming. At the first movement Hartley supposed we had
returned to go to bed, but was instantly undeceived as the crazy brute
made directly for him.

"Hartley threw out his hands and leaped from his bunk, seizing an axe
that lay upon the floor. With that he made for the dog, and finally
drove him from the tent; but only after he had been badly bitten in
several places.

"The first we knew he rushed in, half dressed, where we were. He was
pale with fright, covered with blood, and his eyes seemed starting from
their sockets.

"Whiskey, for God's sake!' he pleaded, panting for breath. 'Hydrophobia,
and so far from home. This is hard lines, ain't it, boys?' between
gulps, the blood dripping from the hand that tremblingly held the glass.

"With that he broke down utterly and cried like a baby. We washed and
dressed his wounds as best we could, and put him to bed in the
road-house as it was then past midnight, while three of the boys rigged
themselves in their furs and hunted the blasted brute that had done the
mischief. They found him gnashing his teeth alongside an outhouse, and a
good dose of cold pills settled him forever.

"Next mornin' we sent a man to the little teacher to ask for medicine
for Hartley, and immediately she and another woman came over. They
brought lint bandages, carbolic acid, and other things and bathed the
wounds; but, best of all, they cheered up the poor fellow by telling him
that he need have no fear of hydrophobia, as the bite of the Eskimo dogs
in winter does not have the same effect that the bite of other dogs has
in hot weather. By the repeated visits and ministrations of the women,
poor Hartley, in a few weeks, recovered.

"However, the little teacher was not satisfied. She knew we must suffer
terribly in our tents, and wanted us to make other arrangements. At last
she thought of a plan for us: An old log school-house, long since
deserted for the new one built near by, was unused except as a
store-room. This building had been originally made warm and tight by
moss chinking, a heavy door, and closely caulked windows. Some of the
latter were now broken, and the snow sifted in upon the dirt fl