The next thing to dawn upon his expanding mind is that dragging heavy weights over the snow makes one’s feet uncommonly sore. The older dogs knew that long ago, and lay down before starting in the morning, quite willing to have their boots put on. The dog “boot” is merely an oblong strip of seal leather with two holes for the nails to go through and a couple of thongs to secure the ends round the leg. Everywhere in the Arctics the freight dogs are obliged to have protection for their feet. But Youngster, whose turn for practical investigation has ere this convinced him that nothing is inedible except sticks and stones, retires promptly to the back of the sled or behind the nearest cover, and eats his boots there and then, with early morning relish. The team, to a dog, say nothing, but start off as usual. Youngster licks his lips, curls his tail, and feels good. But after a few miles something of the curl goes out of his tail, his feet become tender and he droops a little. The others plod on; he lags. Instantly comes the sting of the whip or a nip of teeth like a vice. Youngster sprints ahead, only to flag more and more, to limp and crawl at last with the pain in his unprotected, wayworn feet. At the end of the day he simply staggers home, a very sad and sobered Puppy. Leader strolls over, when he thinks he will, looks at him en passant, and grins. The culprit adds another mental note to his list of things not good for the digestion. No more boots! Comes another milestone on the hard path of learning and virtue—pilfering. Young dogs have to learn that everything on the sled is rigorously taboo—for them. Not to be touched, or so much as sniffed at, on any account whatever. This lesson can only be enforced by many a whipping. For Youngster does so love to stroll past the sled with a preoccupied air, hands in pocket as it were. If he were a human being he would hum a hymn tune. Then, just in that flick of time when no one seems to be looking, he steals a mouthful of seal-meat or blubber. Instantly retribution envelops him. He is severely thrashed. If an experience of this sort repeated once or twice does not cure him his master becomes harsh indeed. The hunter must at all costs gain and keep the ascendancy over his dogs. The thief has his head forced hard back with the mouth wide open, and the man smashes out the two long upper fangs with the back of his hunting knife. That bit of violence completes this part of Youngster’s spartan education. He graduates by learning how to smell for seal holes in the ice, how to tackle a bear, how to defend himself, how to guard the tent or igloo, how to brave every extreme of bitter weather. When an Eskimo dog knows all this he becomes a valuable asset to his master.