From the very first I tried in every way to insist upon the paramount importance to our whole enterprise of getting our draught animals successfully conveyed to our destination.  If we had any watchword at this time it was:  “Dogs first, and dogs all the time.”  The result speaks best for the way in which this watchword was followed.  The following was the arrangement we made:  The dogs, who at first were always tied up on the same spot, were divided into parties of ten; to each party one or two keepers were assigned, with full responsibility for their animals and their treatment.  For my own share I took the fourteen that lived on the bridge.  Feeding the animals was a manoeuvre that required the presence of all hands on deck; it therefore took place when the watch was changed.  The Arctic dog’s greatest enjoyment in life is putting away his food; it may be safely asserted that the way to his heart lies through his dish of meat.  We acted on this principle, and the result did not disappoint us.  After the lapse of a few days the different squads were the best of friends with their respective keepers.

As may be supposed, it was not altogether to the taste of the dogs to stand chained up all the time; their temperament is far too lively for that.  We would gladly have allowed them the pleasure of running about and thus getting healthy exercise, but for the present we dared not run the risk of letting the whole pack loose.  A little more education was required first.  It was easy enough to win their affection; to provide them with a good education was of course a more difficult matter.  It was quite touching to see their joy and gratitude when one gave up a little time to their entertainment.  One’s first meeting with them in the morning was specially cordial.  Their feelings were then apt to find vent in a chorus of joyful howls; this was called forth by the very sight of their masters, but they asked more than that.  They were not satisfied until we had gone round, patting and talking to every one.  If by chance one was so careless as to miss a dog, he at once showed the most unmistakable signs of disappointment.

There can hardly be an animal that is capable of expressing its feelings to the same extent as the dog.  Joy, sorrow, gratitude, scruples of conscience, are all reflected as plainly as could be desired in his behaviour, and above all in his eyes.  We human beings are apt to cherish the conviction that we have a monopoly of what is called a living soul; the eyes, it is said, are the mirror of this soul.  That is all right enough; but now take a look at a dog’s eyes, study them attentively.  How often do we see something “human” in their expression, the same variations that we meet with in human eyes.  This, at all events, is something that strikingly resembles “soul.”  We will leave the question open for those who are interested in its solution, and will here only mention another point, which seems to show that a dog is something more than a mere machine