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Updated: May 25, 2025
It was bitter ruthless war on the barren hinterland of Labrador, where civilisation was unknown. Mercy? Nature never designed that terrible wilderness as a setting for mercy. The dogs had been running for hours when Gouter's voice came sharply back over his shoulder. "Dog!" he cried, in the laconic fashion habitual to him. Bull knelt up. His movement suggested the nervous strain he was enduring.
There's dogs and to spare at all our camps, and I don't care a curse if you run the outfit to death." To a man of Gouter's breed the order was sufficient. Half Eskimo, half white man, he was a savage of the wild, born and bred to the fierce northern trail, one of Labrador's hereditary fur hunters by sea and land. Speed on the fiercest trail was the dream of his vanity.
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