We made short journeys between sunrise and sunset.  At the end of each day our first task was to clear away the snow, so as to have a space for our camp fire and room for the party to stretch themselves round it. The most sheltered spot was selected for Rose's hut, which, when wood was wanting, was formed of buffalo-robes.  She seemed to enjoy the journey, and was as blooming and merry as ever.  The poor dogs were the greatest sufferers.  They had hard work and scanty food.  First one stretched out its legs and died, and then another did the same; and one morning, when we were starting, even Pilot could not be coaxed away from the camp fire.  No one had the heart to kill him, but stand on his legs he either could not or would not, so he was left to his fate in the faint hope that in an hour or so he might recover his strength and overtake us.