eight o'clock
and he veered to the left , dodging a heap of broken ice . Past the mouth of the Ste. Marguerite , twelve miles ; past Les Jambons , twelve miles more ; past the River of Rocks and La Pentecote , fifteen miles more ; into the little hamlet of Dead Men 's Point , behind the Isle of the Wise Virgin , whither the amateur doctor had been summoned by telegraph to attend a patient with a broken arm -- forty-three miles for the first day 's run ! Not bad . Then the dogs got their food for the day , one dried fish apiece ; and at noon the next day , reckless of bleeding feet , they flew back over the same track , and broke their fast at Seven Islands before eight o'clock . The ration was the same , a single fish ; always the same , except when it was varied by a cube of ancient , evil-smelling , potent whale 's flesh , which a dog can swallow at a single gulp . Yet the dogs of the North Shore are never so full of vigour , courage , and joy of life as when the sledges are running . It is in summer , when food is plenty and work slack , that they sicken and die .