{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11758/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11758","id":"gutenberg_11758","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11758","summary":null,"tags":["Animals-Domestic","Category: Adventure","Category: American Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Novels","Dogs -- Folklore"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 11758-h.htm or 11758-h.zip:\n      (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/7/5/11758/11758-h/11758-h.htm)\n      or\n      (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/7/5/11758/11758-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nBALDY of NOME\n\nby\n\nESTHER BIRDSALL DARLING\n\nDecorations by Hattie Longstreet\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Baldy of Nome]\n\n\n\n\nTo My Mother\n\nwhose unfailing kindness to all animals is one of my earliest and\nhappiest memories\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n   I. THE PARTING OF THE WAYS\n\n  II. WHERE EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY\n\n III. THE FIRST STEP\n\n  IV. THE PLODDER\n\n   V. THE WOMAN, THE RACERS, AND OTHERS\n\n  VI. TO VISIT THOSE IN AFFLICTION\n\n VII. THE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW\n\nVIII. A TRAGEDY WITHOUT A MORAL AND A COMEDY WITH ONE\n\n  IX. WITH THE FLIGHT OF TIME\n\n   X. THE SOLOMON DERBY\n\n  XI. ONE SUMMER\n\n XII. THE GREAT RACE\n\nXIII. FOR THE SUPREMACY OF THE TRAIL\n\n XIV. IMMORTALS OF THE TRAIL\n\n\nIllustrations\n\nTHE RACING TEAM\n\n\"SCOTTY\" ALLAN AND BALDY\n\nTHE ALASKA OF MEN AND DOGS\n  June 1st--The steamer \"Corwin\" at the edge of the ice, five miles\n  from shore\n\nTHE WOMAN\n\nNOME, ALASKA--FROM BERING SEA\n\nTHE START OF AN ALASKA DOG TEAM RACE\n\nA TEAM OF SIBERIANS\n\n\"SHE HAD BEEN A MEMBER OF ONE OF THE MAIL TEAMS\"\n  Eric Johnson, U.S. mail carrier on the Nome-Unalakleet Route\n\nTHE AIR WAS CRISP AND KEEN\n\nTHE TRAIL HAD GROWN EXCEEDINGLY ROUGH\n\nKRUZAMAPA HOT SPRINGS\n\nTHE RAMSAY SIBERIANS\n\nAN OVATION FOR THE PLUCKY LITTLE SCOTCHMAN\n\nTHE CAR COASTED DOWN ALL THE HILLS\n\n\"SCOTTY\" ALLAN ON THE TRAIL\n\nAN ALASKAN SWEEPSTAKES TEAM\n  Fay Dalzene, driver\n\nCAPTAIN HAAS OF THE FRENCH ARMY AND HIS ALASKAN SLEDGES\n\nBALDY OF NOME\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nThe Parting of the Ways\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBaldy of Nome\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE PARTING OF THE WAYS\n\n\nBaldy knew that something was wrong. His most diverting efforts had\nfailed to gain the usual reward of a caress, or at least a word of\nunderstanding; and so, dog-like to express his sympathy, he came close\nbeside his friend and licked his hand. Always, before, this had called\nattention to the fact that Baldy was ready to share any trouble with the\nboy--but to-day the rough and grimy little hand, stiff and blue from the\ncold, did not respond, and instead only brushed away the tears that\nrolled slowly down the pinched cheeks. Sometimes the slight body shook\nwith sobs that the boy tried manfully to suppress; but when one is\nchilled, and tired and hungry, and in the shadow of a Great Tragedy, the\nemotions are not easy to control.\n\nWith unseeing eyes and dragging steps, the boy trudged along the snowy\ntrail, dreading the arrival at Golconda Camp. For there was the House of\nJudgment, where all of the unfortunate events of that most unhappy day\nwould be reviewed sternly, though with a certain harsh justice, that\ncould result in nothing less than a sentence of final separation from\nBaldy. And so when the dog in his most subtle and delicate manner showed\nhis deep love for the boy, it only made the thought of the inevitable\nparting harder to bear.\n\nSo completely was Ben lost in his own gloomy reflections that he did not\nhear the sound of bells behind him; and it was not until a cheery voice\ncalled out demanding the right of way that he stepped aside to let a\nrapidly approaching dog team pass. As it came closer he saw that it was\nthe Allan and Darling team of Racers, and for the moment his eyes\nbrightened with interest and admiration as he noticed with a true\ndog-lover's appreciation the perfect condition of the fleet-footed dogs,\nand the fine detail of sled and equipment.\n\nThen his glance fell upon Baldy--thin, rough coated, and showing\nevidences of neglect; upon Baldy to whom he could not now even offer\nfood and shelter, and a wave of bitterness swept over him.\n\n\"Come along, sonny, if you're going our way,\" and in the kindly little\nman at the handle-bars the boy recognized \"Scotty\" Allan, the most\nfamous dog driver in Alaska. To the boy \"Scotty\" represented all that\nwas most admirable in the whole North, and he stood speechless at the\ninvitation to ride with him behind a team that had always seemed as\nwonderful as Cinderella's Fairy Coach. He hesitated, and then the Woman\nin the sled beckoned encouragingly. \"Get in with me; and your dog may\ncome too,\" she said as she rearranged the heavy fur robes to make room.\nThe boy advanced with painful shyness, and awkwardly climbed into the\nplace assigned him. The Woman laid her hand on Baldy's collar to draw\nhim in also, but the boy exclaimed quickly, \"No, ma'am, don't do that,\nplease; he ain't really cross, but he won't ride in anythin' as long's\nhe's got a leg to stand on; an' sometimes he growls if people he don't\nknow touches him.\"\n\n\"Dogs and boys never growl at me, because I love them; and he does not\nlook as if he really had a leg to stand on,\" she replied smilingly. But\nthe boy nervously persisted. \"Please let him go--his legs is all right.\nHe looks kind o' run down jest now 'cause he\"--the boy felt a tightening\nat his throat, and winked hard to keep the tears from starting\nagain--\"'cause he ain't got much appetite. But when he's eatin' good his\nlegs is jest great. Why, there ain't no other dog in Golconda that's got\nas strong legs as Baldy when he's--when he's eatin' good,\" he repeated\nhastily. \"An' Golconda's plumb full o' fine dogs.\"\n\n\"If that's so,\" said \"Scotty,\" \"I think I shall have to take a look at\nthose Golconda wonders before the winter fairly sets in; and maybe you\ncan give me a few pointers.\"\n\nFor a mile or so the boy sat spellbound, drinking in the casual comments\nof \"Scotty\" upon the dogs in the team, as if they were pearls of wisdom\ndropping from the lips of an Oracle. He was not so much interested in\nthe Woman's replies, for they displayed a lack of technical information\nthat contrasted unfavorably in the boy's mind with the keen and accurate\ninsight that Allan showed in every word on that most vital subject.\n\nVaguely the boy remembered having once heard that she had become a\npartner in the racing team for mere amusement of the sport, instead of\nfrom a serious, high-minded interest, and that of course did not entitle\nher to the same respect you could feel for one to whom the care and\nculture of the dog assumed the dignity of a vocation. Then, too, she had\nspoken slightingly of Baldy's legs. As a human being he could not but\nrespond to her friendly overtures, but as a dog fancier she held no\nplace in his esteem.\n\nAs they approached the divide where the trail for Golconda branched from\nthe main road, an idea suddenly came to the boy. He had watched the\nharmony between Allan and his dogs; had noted their willingness, their\naffection for \"Scotty,\" and his consideration for them. And as the pace\nbecame slower, and he realized that they were nearly at the end of this\nfate-given interview, he tremblingly gasped out the question that had\nbeen seething through his mind with such persistence. \"Mr. Allan, would\nyou like to buy Baldy?\"\n\n\"Buy Baldy!\" exclaimed the man in surprise. \"Why, I thought you and\nBaldy were chums--I had no idea he was for sale.\"\n\n\"He wasn't till jest now, not till I saw how yer dogs love you; but I\ngot t' git rid of him. It's been comin' fer a long time, an' I guess\nto-day's finished it.\"\n\nThe man leaned over and looked into the tear-stained face. \"Are you in\nsome trouble about him? Perhaps it's not so bad as you think, and maybe\nwe can help you without taking Baldy.\"\n\nBut the boy went on determinedly. \"No, sir, I want you to take him; it'd\nbe the best thing fer him, an' I kin stan' it someway. A feller has ter\nstan' a lot o' things he don't like in this world, but I hope,\"\nfeelingly, \"all of 'em ain't as hard as givin' up his best friend.\"\n\nAs if to avoid the sympathy he felt was forthcoming, he plunged hastily\ninto the details that had led to the unexpected offer. \"I'm Ben Edwards.\nMaybe you knew my father; he was killed in the cave-in on the June\nFraction. Baldy was only a little pup then, but Dad was awful fond of\nhim.\"\n\n\"I remember,\" said the Woman thoughtfully; \"and you have been in\ndifficulties since, and need the money you could get for Baldy. Is that\nit?\"\n\n\"It ain't only the money, but none o' the men at the Camp care much fer\nBaldy, an' they ain't kind to him. Only Moose Jones. When he was here he\nwouldn't let the men tease Baldy ner me, an' he made the cook give me\nscraps an' bones ter feed him. An' once he licked Black Mart fer\nthrowin' hot water on Baldy when he went ter the door o' Mart's cabin\nlookin' fer me. I think Moose Jones is the best man in the world, an'\nabout the strongest,\" volunteered the boy loyally.\n\n\"And where's Moose Jones now?\" asked \"Scotty.\" \"I used to see him\nprospecting out near the Dexter Divide last winter.\"\n\n\"He was at Dexter first, an' then he was at Golconda fer a while; but in\nspring he went ter St. Michael, an' from there up ter the new strike at\nMarshall.\"\n\n\"And you miss him very much?\" questioned the Woman.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, I miss him a lot, an' so does Baldy. He was awful good ter\nanimals an' kids. He had a pet ermine that 'ud come in ter see him every\nnight in his cabin, an' he wouldn't let Mart an' some o' the fellers set\na trap fer the red mother fox that was prowlin' round the place t' git\nsomethin' fer her babies. Said he'd make trap-bait fer bears o' the\nfirst feller that tried t' git 'er.\"\n\n\"Excellent idea.\"\n\n\"Oh, he didn't really mean it serious. Why, Moose is so kind he hates\nter kill anythin'--even fer food. Sometimes when he's been livin' on\nbacon an' beans fer months, he lets a flock o' young ptarmigan fly by\nhim 'cause he says they look so soft an' pretty an' fluttery he don't\nlike ter shoot 'em; an' Moose is a dead shot. He's mighty handy with his\nfists too, an' next ter Mr. Allan I guess Moose knows more about dogs\nthan any man in Alaska; an' he said he'd bet some day there'd be a\nreg'lar stampede ter buy Baldy.\"\n\n\"A prophet,\" exclaimed the Woman. \"You see we are the forerunners. But\nwho is Black Mart?\"\n\n\"Oh, he's a miner that's workin' the claim next ter Golconda. He's a\nfriend o' the cook there, an' comes over ter eat pretty often. Him and\nMoose had some trouble once over some minin' ground, an' Mart kinda\ntakes it out on all Moose's friends, even if they's only boys an' dogs,\ndon't he, Baldy?\" And Baldy wagged that he certainly did. \"Now the cook\nsays they've got work dogs enough belongin' ter the claim ter feed,\nwithout supportin' my mangy cur in idleness. Mr. Allan,\" earnestly, \"he\nain't mangy, an' he's the most willin' dog I ever seen fer any one that\nloves him. But he ain't sociable with every one, an' he don't like bein'\nhandled rough.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" looked at Baldy with a practiced and critical eye. \"Those are\nall points in his favor,\" he remarked. \"You can't do much with a dog\nthat gives his affection and obedience indiscriminately.\"\n\n\"Besides, he ain't no cur--he's one o' them Bowen-Dalzene pups, an' you\nknow there ain't a poor dog in the lot. They give him to me 'cause he\nwasn't like any o' the others in the litter, an' would 'a' spoiled the\nlooks o' the team when they was old enough ter be hitched up,\" continued\nBen breathlessly. \"He was sort o' wild, too, an' he wouldn't pay\nattention t' any of 'em when I was round, an' they said I might as well\ntake him fer keeps as t' have him runnin' away t' git t' me all the\ntime.\"\n\n\"And your mother does not like him, and thinks it would be best not to\nkeep him now?\"\n\n\"She really does like him; but she does the washin' fer the Camp, an'\nhelps with the dishes, an' sews when she kin git a job at it. But there\nain't none of 'em reg'lar, an' sometimes there ain't more'n enough fer\nus two t' live on. Then she gits pretty tired an' discouraged like, an'\nsays Baldy's a useless expense, an' keeps me from doin' my chores,\n'cause I like t' play with him, an'--\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I see,\" broke in the Woman hastily, anxious to spare him any\nfurther revelations of a painful nature. \"I know exactly how it is; but\nmaybe we could make some arrangement with your mother about the dog. We\nwill take a sort of an option on him; you can keep him with you, and we\nwill pay a certain sum for the privilege of being permitted to buy him\noutright before the stampede actually begins.\"\n\nThe boy looked at her suspiciously, but there was no smile on her lips,\nand she rose a notch in his estimation. She evidently did realize, in a\nslight degree, what an unusual bargain was being offered in his\nheart-breaking sacrifice.\n\n\"An' it ain't 'cause his appetite's gone that makes him thin. I wasn't\ntellin' the truth about that,\" he stammered desperately; \"he's jest\n_hungry_.\" The child's mouth quivered and he hesitated, yet he was\ndetermined to tell the whole of the sordid little tragedy now that he\nhad begun. \"But spendin' too much time with him when I should be workin'\nain't the worst. To-day I done somethin' that mebbe she'll think ain't\nexac'ly square; an' my mother believes if you ain't square in this world\nyou ain't much worth while.\"\n\n\"You're not, son,\" agreed \"Scotty\" heartily. \"Your mother's right.\"\n\n\"My father was allers called Honest Ben Edwards out here on the Third\nBeach Line, an' Mother says she'd ruther have that mem'ry o' him than\nall the fortunes that's been made in Alaska by lyin' an' steal-in' an'\njumpin' other people's claims.\"\n\n\"Right again, Ben. Nothing can take that from her, and a name like that\nis the best thing a man can leave his son.\"\n\n\"This mornin' she gave me some money fer a new pair o' mittens fer her,\nan' shoes fer me; an' the cook asked me t' buy a kitchen knife an' a few\npans fer him. I walked inter town t' git 'em, an' Baldy come with me,\nthough she said I was foolish t' be bothered with him. But I told her it\nwas awful lonesome on the trail, an' she said I could take him this\ntime.\" He paused for breath, visibly embarrassed.\n\n\"And you forgot all about your errands,\" hazarded the Woman.\n\n\"No, ma'am, I didn't exac'ly forgit, but when I was passin' the Court\nHouse an' I seen a big crowd inside, I went in, too, ter listen a\nminute.\n\n\"That lawyer Fink, that got up the Kennel Club, an' has the bully dog\nteam, an' Daly, the feller with the smile that makes you feel like\nthere's sunshine in the room, was a-talkin' agin each other; an' their\nfightin' was so excitin' an' so smooth an' perlite too, that everybody\nwas a-settin' on the edges o' their chairs a-waitin' fer what was\na-comin' next.\"\n\n\"So you were interested in what the lawyers had to say?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Ever since my mother told me the story about President\nLincoln a while ago, I been wantin' t' be a lawyer when I grow up. He\ndidn't have no more book-learnin' than me at first, but he wouldn't let\nnothin' stop him, an' jest see what he done.\"\n\n\"Lincoln is to be your model, then? Well, you're right to aim high, Ben.\nYou can practice his simple virtues of being honest and kind and\nindustrious every day, and anywhere. And the education must be managed\nsomeway,\" added the Woman thoughtfully.\n\n\"After Mother read me that speech o' Mr. Lincoln's at Gettysburg, when\nall the people was jest dumb from their feelin's bein' so solemn an'\ndeep; an' some o' his other speeches that was fine, I begun t' go t'\ntown whenever there was t' be any good speakin', even when I had t' walk\nboth ways.\"\n\n\"Shows your determination, as a starter,\" replied \"Scotty\"\nencouragingly. \"And were you always repaid for your tramp?\"\n\n\"Most allers, Mr. Allan. Last Fourth o' July I heerd Judge Tucker tell\nin his pleasant voice 'at sounds like he likes talkin' t' you all that\nVirginia's done fer our country, an' I wished I was from Virginia too.\nBut mebbe some day I'll make some boy wish he was from Alaska by bein'\nfine an' smart an' gentle like Judge Tucker.\"\n\n\"Virginia or Alaska, Ben--it's all the same, so long as you're proud of\nyour state, and give your state a chance to be proud of you.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am; that's what Mother says. Then I heerd Tom Gaffney recitin'\nRobert Emmett's last speech, on St. Patrick's day, at Eagle Hall, an' I\nnear cried at the end; an' I don't cry easy. It takes somethin' pretty\nbad t' make me cry,\" and he looked furtively toward Baldy.\n\n\"I'm sure it does, sonny; any one can see that you're game, all right;\nbut that speech always makes me cry too.\"\n\nThe boy regarded \"Scotty\" appreciatively. Here was a typical Alaskan, a\nsturdy trailsman, touched by the tender, pitiful things of life, just\nlike a little boy that hasn't had time to become hardened. Ben felt that\nthey would be friends.\n\n[Illustration: SCOTTY AND BALDY]\n\n\"I like all kinds o' speakin', too; not jest the fiery sort that makes\nyou want t' fight fer your country, an' mebbe die fer it like Robert\nEmmett; but the kind that jest makes you want t' be good ter folks an'\ndogs, an' do the best you kin when things is agin you, an' you don't\nsee much ahead--\"\n\nThe Woman nodded gravely. \"Yes, I know. It's the most difficult sort of\nbravery--the sort without flags, and music, and cheers to keep you up to\nthe firing line.\"\n\n\"That's the kind, ma'am. Mebbe you know Bishop Rowe. That's what he\npreaches--jest doin' your best all the time, like you was in some big\nrace. When he's in Nome I allers go t' St. Mary's. He talks plain an'\nsimple, an' cheers you up--I guess kinda the way Lincoln talked--jest\nlike he knew all about people's troubles an' didn't blame 'em fer\nmistakes, but wanted t' help 'em t' do better. Sometimes his talks don't\nsound smooth, an' made up beforehand, but you never forgit 'em.\"\n\n\"Eloquence of the heart instead of the tongue,\" murmured the Woman.\n\n\"An' last August I went every night fer near a week, when Mr. Wickersham\nwas talkin' men inter sendin' him t' Washington, no matter what they\nfelt an' said agin his goin' when he wasn't before 'em.\"\n\n\"You have certainly had a variety of orators, and a wide range of\nsubjects.\"\n\n\"You kin see I ain't missed a single chanct t' hear any of 'em since I\nmade up my mind t' be a great man\"--and then appalled by his lengthy\nburst of eloquence the child colored violently and concluded in\nconfusion--\"an' this mornin' I got so interested in them speeches o'\nDaly's an' Fink's, I must 'a' lost all track o' time, fer when I come\nout it was noon, an' Baldy was gone.\"\n\n\"You must indeed have been absorbed to forget Baldy. Where did you find\nhim?\"\n\n\"One o' the school kids told me the pound-man had got him, so I went\nover t' the pound on the Sand Spit as fast as I could run. I explained\nt' the man that Baldy wasn't a Nome dog; that we live five miles out at\nGolconda--but he said he was gittin' pretty sick o' that excuse. That no\nboy's dog ever really lived in Nome, so fur's he could find out; that\nall of 'em was residin' in the suburbs, an' only come in t' spend a day\nnow an' then.\"\n\n\"It's a strange thing,\" mused the Woman, \"that all pound-men are\nsarcastic and sceptical. It seems an inevitable part of their\noccupation. They never believed me when I was a little girl, either.\nThen what?\"\n\n\"He said the only thing that concerned him was that Baldy was in town\nwhen he found him, and hadn't no license. Besides, he thought the dog\nwas vicious 'cause he growled when the wire was around his neck. Pretty\nnear any dog 'ud do that ef he had any spirit in him; an' Baldy's jest\nfull o' spirit.\"\n\nBoth the Woman and \"Scotty\" looked involuntarily at Baldy who stood,\ndejected and uneasy; and then exchanged a glance in which amusement and\npity struggled for expression.\n\n\"The pound-man said ef I didn't pay the $2.50 t' git him out, an'\nanother $2.50 t' git him a license, he'd sell the dog along with a lot\no' others he'd ketched durin' the week. I tuk Mother's money, an' what\nthe cook give me, an' got Baldy out, an' bought him a license so's he'd\nbe safe nex' time. Now,\" sadly, \"there ain't goin' t' be any nex' time.\"\n\n\"There really did not seem to be any other way out of it for the\nmoment,\" observed the Woman sympathetically.\n\n\"No, ma'am, but it wasn't very honest t' use the cook's money, ner\nMother's; it'll take a long time t' pay 'em back, an' I guess Mother\nwon't have much patience with Baldy after this. I wouldn't mind gittin'\npunished myself, but I don't want him blamed. He'd be a lot better off\nwith you, Mr. Allan; an' mebbe ef you'd feed him up, an' give him a\nchanct, he'd be a racer some day. He'd never lay down on you, an',\"\nalmost defiantly, \"he's got good legs.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" felt the dog's legs, and noted the breadth of his chest. \"What\ndo you want for him, Ben?\"\n\n\"Would ten dollars be too much?\" asked the boy, eagerly.\n\n\"Ten dollars would be too little,\" quickly exclaimed the Woman. \"You see\nwe are getting ahead of all the others who do not know his fine points\nyet, and we should be willing to pay something extra for this\nopportunity. Do you think that twenty-five dollars would be fair,\nconsidering that we are in on the ground floor?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, that's lots more'n I expected. But it ain't so much the\nmoney I'm gittin' as the home he's gittin' an' the trainin' an' all.\"\n\n\"Well, that's a bargain, then; come to my husband's office--Darling and\nDean, on Front Street, you know--the first time you are in town, and we\nwill give you a check; and you can bring Baldy with you then.\"\n\n\"I guess,\" slowly, \"you'd better take him now. It 'ud be easier fer me\nt' let him go while I'm kinda worked up to it. Mebbe ef I thought about\nit fer a few days I wouldn't be able t' do it, an' he mightn't have\nanother chanct like this in his whole life.\"\n\nHe drew a frayed bit of rope from a torn pocket, and tied it to the old\nstrap that served as Baldy's collar--handing the end to \"Scotty.\"\n\nIn the deepening shadows of the chill November dusk the boy's face was\nashen. He stooped over as if to see that the knot in the rope was secure\nat the dog's neck--but the Woman knew in that brief instant the\ntrembling blue lips had been pressed in an agony of renunciation against\nBaldy's rough coat.\n\n\"Thank you both very much,\" he said in a tone that he tried to keep\nsteady. \"Thank you fer the ride and fer--fer everything.\"\n\nHe did not trust himself to look at the dog again, but stepped quickly\ninto the Golconda Trail.\n\n\"You must come to see Baldy often,\" the Woman called to him.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, I'll be glad to--after a while,\" he replied gratefully.\n\nAnd then as \"Scotty\" gave the word to the impatient Racers, and the team\nswung round to return to Nome, there came to them out of the grayness a\nvoice, faint and quavering like an echo--\"Some day you'll be glad you've\ngot Baldy.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nWhere Every Dog Has His Day\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nWHERE EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY\n\n\nBaldy's entrance into the Allan and Darling Kennel had failed to attract\nthe interest that the arrival of a new inmate usually created. He was an\naccident, not an acquisition, and the little comment upon his presence\nwas generally unfavorable.\n\nEven Matt, who took care of the dogs, and was a sort of godfather to\nthem all, shook his head dubiously over Baldy. \"He don't seem to belong\nhere, someway,\" had been his mild criticism; while the Woman complained\nto \"Scotty\" that he was one of the most unresponsive dogs she had ever\nknown.\n\n\"He's not exactly unresponsive,\" maintained \"Scotty\" justly; \"but he's\nself-contained, and it's hard for him to adjust himself to these recent\nchanges. It's all strange to him, and he misses the boy. You can't watch\nhim with Ben and say that he's not affectionate; but he gives his\naffection slowly, and to but few people. One must earn it.\"\n\nThe Woman regarded Baldy with amused contempt. \"So one must work hard\nfor his affection, eh? Well, with all of the attractive dogs here\nwilling to lavish their devotion upon us, I think it would hardly be\nworth while trying to coax Baldy's reluctant tolerance into something\nwarmer.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" admitted that Baldy could hardly be considered genial. \"He's\nlike some people whose natures are immobile--inexpressive. It's going to\ntake a little while to find out if it's because there is nothing to\nexpress, or because he is undemonstrative, and has to show by his\nconduct rather than by his manners what there is to him.\"\n\nIt was true that Baldy was unmistakably ill at ease in his new quarters,\nand did not feel at home; for he was accustomed neither to the luxuries\nnor to the restrictions that surrounded him. His early experiences had\nbeen distinctly plebeian and uninteresting, but they had been quite free\nof control.\n\nBorn at one of the mining claims in the hills, of worthy hard-working\nparents, he had, with the various other members of the family, been\nraised to haul freight from town to the mine. But his attachment for Ben\nEdwards had intervened, and before he was really old enough to be\nthoroughly broken to harness, he had taken up his residence at Golconda.\n\nHere his desultory training continued, but a lesson in sled pulling was\nalmost invariably turned into a romp, so that he had only acquired the\nrudiments of an education when he came under \"Scotty's\" supervision.\n\nHis complete ignorance in matters of deportment, and possibly, too, his\nretiring disposition, made him feel an intruder in the exclusive coterie\nabout him; and certainly there was a pronounced lack of cordiality on\nthe part of most of the dogs toward him. This was especially true of\nTom, Dick, and Harry, the famous Tolman brothers, who were the Veterans\nof Alaska Dog Racing, and so had a standing in the Kennel that none\ndared question. That is, none save Dubby, who recognized no standard\nother than his own; and that standard took no cognizance of Racers as\nRacers. They were all just dogs--good or bad--to Dubby.\n\nThe fact that Tom, Dick, and Harry had been in every one of those unique\ndashes across the snow-swept wastes of Seward Peninsula, from Bering Sea\nto the Arctic Ocean and return, and had never been \"out of the money,\"\ndid not count greatly in his rigid code. The same distance covered\nslowly by freighters in pursuance of their task of earning their daily\nliving would seem to him far more worthy of respect and emulation. And\nso, when the Tolman brothers, who were apt to be quarrelsome with those\n\"not in their class,\" showed a coldness toward Baldy that threatened to\nbreak into open hostility at the slightest excuse, Dubby promptly ranged\nhimself on the side of the newcomer with a firmness that impressed even\nTom, Dick, and Harry with a determination to be at least discreet if not\ncourteous.\n\nThey had learned, with all of the others in the Kennel, to treat with a\nstudied politeness--even deference--the wonderful old Huskie whose\nsupremacy as a leader had become a Tradition of the North; and who was\nstill in fighting trim should cause for trouble arise. He did not rely\nalone on his past achievements, which were many and brilliant, but he\nmaintained a reputation for ever-ready power which is apt to give\nimmunity from attack.\n\nDubby's attitude toward the Racers generally was galling in the extreme.\nUsually he ignored them completely, turning his back upon them when they\nwere being harnessed, and apparently oblivious of their very existence;\nexcept as such times when he felt that they needed suggestions as to\ntheir behavior.\n\nThere was, in a way, a certain injustice in Dubby's contempt for what\nmight be called the sporting element of the stable; for, like college\nathletes, they were only sports incidentally, and for the greater part\nof the year they were as ready and willing to do a hard day's work in\ncarrying goods to the creeks as were the more commonplace dogs who had\nnever won distinction on the Trail.\n\nBut Dubby was ultra-conservative; and while \"Scotty\" must have had some\nstrange human reason for all of these silly dashes with an absolutely\nempty sled, in his opinion hauling a boiler up to Hobson Creek would be\na far more efficacious means of exercise, and would be a practical\naccomplishment besides. Dubby was of a generation that knew not racing.\nOf noted McKenzie River parentage, he came from Dawson, where he was\nborn, down the Yukon to Nome with \"Scotty\" Allan. He had led a team of\nhis brothers and sisters, six in all, the entire distance of twelve\nhundred miles, early manifesting that definite acknowledged mastery over\nthe others that is indispensable in a good leader. He had realized what\nit meant to be a Pioneer, had penetrated with daring men the waste\nplaces in search of fame, fortune and adventure; and had carried the\nheavy burdens of gold wrested from rock-ribbed mountain, and bouldered\nriver bed. He had helped to take the United States Mail to remote and\ninaccessible districts, and had sped with the Doctor and Priest to the\nbedside of the sick or dying in distant, lonely cabins.\n\nHe and his kind have ever shared the toil of the development of that\ndesolate country that stretches from the ice-bound Arctic to where the\ngray and sullen waters of Bering Sea break on a bleak and wind-swept\nshore. They figure but little in the forest-crowned Alaska of the\nSouth, with its enchanted isles, emerald green, in the sunlit, silver\nwaves; but they are an indispensable factor in the very struggle for\nmere existence up beyond the chain of rugged Aleutians whose towering\nvolcanoes are ever enveloped in a sinister shroud of smoke. Up in the\neternal snows of the Alaska of the North, the unknown Alaska--the Alaska\nof Men and Dogs.\n\n[Illustration: THE ALASKA OF MEN AND DOGS June 1--The\nsteamer Corwin at the edge of the ice, five miles from shore]\n\nAnd so it is not strange that in such a land where the dog has ever\nplayed well his r\u00f4le of support to those who have faced its dangers and\nconquered its terrors, that his importance should be at last freely\nacknowledged, and the fact admitted that only the best possible dogs\nshould be used for all arduous tasks.\n\nToward this end the Nome Kennel Club was organized. The object was not\nalone the improvement of the breeds used so extensively, but also, since\nthe first President was a Kentuckian, of equal importance was the\nfurnishing of a wholesome and characteristic sport for the community.\n\nAnd Nome, once famed for her eager, reckless treasure-seekers in that\ngreat rush of 1900; famed once for being the \"widest open\" camp in all\nAlaska, now in her days of peace and quiet still claims recognition. Not\nonly because of the millions taken out annually by her huge dredgers and\nhydraulics; not only because she is an important trading station that\nsupplies whalers and explorers with all necessary equipment for their\nvoyages in the Arctic; not only because of her picturesque history; but\nbecause she possesses the best sled dogs to be found, and originated and\nmaintains the most thrilling and most difficult sport the world has ever\nknown--Long Distance Dog Racing.\n\nPrevious to the advent of these races any dog that could stand on four\nlegs, and had strength enough to pull, was apt to be pressed into\nservice; but since they have become a recognized feature of the life\nthere, a certain pride has manifested itself in the dog-drivers, and\ndog-owners, who aim now to use only the dogs really fitted for the work.\nEven the Eskimos, who were notorious for their indifferent handling of\ntheir ill-fed, overburdened beasts, have joined in the \"better dog\"\nmovement, which is a popular and growing one.\n\nAccording to Dubby's stern law, however, most of the Racers--the\nlong-legged, supple-bodied Tolmans, the delicately built Irish Setters,\nIrish and Rover, and numberless others of the same type, would have been\ncondemned to the ignominy of being mere pets; useless canine adjuncts to\nhuman beings--creatures that were allowed in the house, and were given\nstrangely repulsive bits of food in return for degrading antics, such as\nsitting on one's hind legs or playing dead.\n\nOccasionally there was, for some valid reason, an exception to his\ndisapproval; as in the case, for instance, of Jack McMillan. For while\nhe could not but deplore Jack's headstrong ways, and his intolerance of\nauthority in the past, he nevertheless felt a certain admiration for the\nbig tawny dog who moved with the lithe ease of the panther, and held\nhimself with the imposing dignity of the lion. An admiration for the dog\nwhose reputation for wickedness extended even to the point of being\ncalled a \"man-eater,\" and was the source, far and near, of a respect\nlargely tempered with fear.\n\nThere was always an air of repressed pride about Jack when he listened\nto the thrilling accounts of his crimes told with dramatic inspiration\nto horrified audiences; a pride which is not seemly save for great\nworth and good deeds. Yet in spite of these grave faults of character\nDubby accorded McMillan the recognition due his wonderful strength and\nkeen intelligence; for Dubby, while intolerant of mere speed, was ever\nalert to find the sterner and more rugged qualities in his associates.\n\nPerhaps it was partly because Baldy possessed no trivial graces and\nmanifested no disdain for the homely virtues of the work dogs whose\nfaithfulness has won for them an honorable place in the community, that\nDubby had soon given unmistakable signs of friendliness that helped to\nmake Baldy's new home endurable.\n\nWhile Dubby's championship was a great comfort, there were many things\nof every-day occurrence that surprised and annoyed Baldy. Out of the\nbewilderment that had at first overwhelmed him he had finally evolved\ntwo Great Rules of Conduct, which he observed implicitly--to Pull as\nHard as he Could, and to Obey his Driver. This code of ethics is perfect\nfor a trail dog of Alaska, but it was in the minor things that he was\nconstantly perplexed--things in which it was difficult to distinguish\nbetween right and wrong, or at least between folly and wisdom. To tell\nwhere frankness of action became tactlessness, and the renunciation of\npassing pleasures a pose. It was particularly disconcerting to see that\nvirtue often remained unnoticed, and that vice just as often escaped\nretribution; and what he saw might have undermined Baldy's whole moral\nnature, but for the simple sincerity that was the key-note to his\ncharacter. As an artless dog of nature he was accustomed, when the world\ndid not seem just and right to him, to show it plainly--an attitude not\nconducive to popularity; and it often made him seem surly when as a\nmatter of fact he was only puzzled or depressed. He could not feign an\namiability to hide hatred and vindictiveness as did the Tolmans, and it\nwas a constant shock to him to note how the hypocrisy of Tom and his\nbrothers deluded their friends into a deep-seated belief in their\nintegrity. Even after such depravity as chasing the Allan girl's pet\ncat, stealing a neighbor's dog-salmon, or attacking an inoffensive\nCocker Spaniel, he had seen Tom so meek and pensive that no one could\nsuspect him of wrong-doing who had not actually witnessed it; and he had\nseen the Woman, when she _had_ actually witnessed it, become a sort of\naccessory after the fact, and shield Tom from \"Scotty's\" just wrath,\nwhich was extraordinary and confusing.\n\nThe confinement of a Kennel, too, no matter how commodious, was most\ntrying. Even the vigorous daily exercise was \"personally conducted\" by\nMatt; and Baldy longed for the freedom that had been his when alone, or\npreferably with the boy, he had roamed through the far stretches of rank\ngrass, tender willows, and sweet-smelling herbs in summer, or over the\nwide, snowy plains in winter.\n\nThen, later, the boy came to Baldy; and there were blissful periods when\nhe would lie with his head on Ben's lap; when the repressed enmity of\nthe haughty Tolmans, the cold indifference of the magnificent McMillan,\nand even Matt's eternal vigilance were forgotten. Periods when his\ncompanion's toil-hardened hands stroked the sleek sides and sinewy\nflanks that no longer hinted of insufficient nourishment; and caressing\nfingers lingered over the smooth and shining coat that had once been so\nrough and ragged.\n\nTo see Baldy receiving the same care and consideration as his\nstable-mates, who had won the plaudits of the world, justified the boy's\nsacrifice; and in spite of his loneliness he always left Baldy with a\nhappy heart.\n\n\"We'll show 'em some day we was worth while, won't we, Baldy?\" he would\nwhisper confidently; and Baldy's reply was sure to be a satisfactory wag\nof his bobbed tail, signifying that he certainly intended to do his\nbest.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nThe First Step\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE FIRST STEP\n\n\nWith the boy's more frequent visits Baldy's horizon began to widen\nalmost imperceptibly. He even looked forward to those moments when, with\nGeorge Allan and his friend Danny Kelly, Ben stood beside him discussing\nhis points and possibilities.\n\nUp to the present his world had included but two friends--the boy and\nMoose Jones. Annoyed and sometimes abused at the Camp, he had felt that\nthere was no real understanding between himself and most of those with\nwhom he came into association, and it had made him gloomy and\nsuspicious. Now he knew, with the intuition so often found in children\nand animals, that George and Danny, as well as Ben, comprehended, at\nleast in part, the emotions he could not adequately express--gratitude\nfor kindness and a desire to please; and in return he endeavored to show\nhis appreciation of this understanding by shy overtures of friendliness.\nHe even licked George's hand one day--a caress heretofore reserved\nexclusively for Ben Edwards--and he escorted Danny Kelly the full length\nof the town to his home in the East End, much as he dreaded the confines\nof the narrow city streets where he was brought into close contact with\nstrange people and strange dogs.\n\nAt Golconda, in his absorbing affection for the boy, he had more or less\nignored the others of his kind--they meant nothing to him. But now the\nadvantages of plenty of food and excellent care were almost offset by\nhis occasional contact with the quarrelsome dogs of the street, and his\nconstant companionship with the distinguished company into which he had\ncome reluctantly and in which he seemed so unwelcome.\n\nIn \"Scotty\" Baldy discerned a compelling personality to whom he rendered\nwilling allegiance and respect, as well as a dawning affection. And it\nwas with much gratification that he had heard occasionally after\ninspection comments in a tone that contained no trace of regret at his\npresence, even if it had as yet inspired no particular enthusiasm. To be\nsure Allan found some merit in the least promising dogs as a rule, and\nperhaps the faint praise he was beginning to bestow on Baldy had in it\nmore or less of the impersonal approval he gave to all dogs who did not\nprove themselves hopelessly bad. But it seemed at least a step in the\nright direction when \"Scotty\" had said, replying to criticism of the\nWoman, \"No, he is certainly not fierce, and by no means so morose as he\nlooks. So far I must confess he's proving himself a pretty good sort.\"\n\nOf course even the Woman, who admitted frankly that first impressions\ncounted much with her, knew that it was not always wise to judge by\nappearances, for she had seen the successful development of the most\nunlikely material. There was the case of Tom, Dick, and Harry. No one\nwould ever have supposed in seeing them, so alert and with the quickness\nand grace of a cat in their movements, that in their feeble mangy\ninfancy they had only been saved from drowning by their excellent family\nconnections, and their appealing charm of responsiveness. A\nresponsiveness that in maturity made them favorites with every one who\nknew them, and prompted the tactful ways that convinced each admirer\nthat his approval was the last seal to their satisfaction in the fame\nthey had won. When Tom leaned against people confidingly, and put up his\npaw in cordial greeting; and Dick and Harry, so much alike that it was\nnearly impossible to tell them apart, stood waiting eagerly for the\ninevitable words of praise, it was hard indeed to realize that their\nperfect manners were a cloak for morals that rough, uncultured Baldy\nwould condemn utterly.\n\nWith the departure of the last boats of the summer there is no\nconnecting link with the great, unfrozen outside, except the wireless\ntelegraph and the United States Government Dog Team Mail that is brought\nfifteen hundred miles, in relays, over the long white trail from Valdez.\nThen, with the early twilight of the long Arctic winter, which lasts\nuntil the dawn of the brilliant sunshine and pleasant warmth of May,\nthere come the Dog Days of Nome. Days that are heralded by an increased\nactivity in dog circles, a mysterious fascination that weaves itself\nabout all prospective entries to the races, and the introduction of a\nstrange dialect called \"Deep Dog Dope,\" which is the popular means of\ncommunication between all people regardless of age, sex or\nnationality--from the Federal Judge on the Bench to the tiniest tots in\nKindergarten.\n\nThe town gives itself up completely to the gripping intensities and\nardors of this period when all dog men assemble in appropriate places to\ntalk over the prospects of the coming Racing Season. Accordingly George\nand Danny were in the habit of meeting in the Kennel, each afternoon, to\nconsider the burning questions of the hour, with all of the certain\nknowledge and wide experience that belonged to their mature years--for\nGeorge and Danny were seven and eight respectively.\n\nOften Ben, whose mother had obtained work in town so that he might go to\nschool regularly, joined in these important discussions; and while\nsomewhat older than his companions, he greatly enjoyed being with them,\nfor they were manly little fellows and had picked up much valuable dog\nlore from \"Scotty\" and Matt.\n\nThe Woman, too, for no apparent reason, was frequently at these serious\nconclaves, and was apt to voice rather trifling views on the weighty\nmatters in debate. George felt that she was entitled only to the\ncourteous toleration one accords the weaker sex in matters too deep for\ntheir inconsequent minds to grasp fully; for even if she was his\nfather's racing partner, she had openly acknowledged that she considered\ndogs a pastime, and not a life study, which naturally proved her mental\nlimitations.\n\n[Illustration: The Woman]\n\nOne of the events already assured was a race for boys under nine years\nof age. \"It's too bad you're too old for it, Ben,\" George had exclaimed\nsympathetically. \"Father's told Danny and me we can use some of his\ndogs; and he'd 'a' been glad t' do the same for you. When I want t'\ndrive fast dogs, and go t' the Moving Pictures at night, and drink\ncoffee, I wish I was old too; but now I can see that gettin' old's\npretty tough on a feller sometimes.\"\n\n\"Mebbe there'll be a race fer the older boys later,\" replied Ben\nhopefully. \"I dunno as I could do much myself, but I sure would like t'\ntry Baldy out. He minds so quick I think he'd be a fine leader; an' it\nlooks like he'd be fast from the way he chases rabbits and squirrels\nout on the tundra.\"\n\n\"You can't allers tell about that,\" observed Dan pessimistically. \"I got\na dog that's a corker when he's just chasin' things; but when I put a\nharness on him he ain't fit for a High School Girl's Racin' Team, an'\nyou know what girls is for gettin' speed out of a dog. 'You poor tired\nlittle doggie, you can stop right here an' rest if you want to; I don't\ncare if they do get ahead of us,'\" and Danny finished his remarks in the\nhigh falsetto and mincing inflection he attributed to the youthful\nmembers of a sex that in his opinion, as well as in George's, has no\nright to engage in the masculine occupation of Dog Mushing.\n\n\"Of course,\" said George, looking thoughtfully at Baldy, who was lying\ncontentedly at Ben's feet, and giving voice to the wisdom of \"Scotty\" or\nMatt in such discussions, \"of course, in a dog that's goin' in for the\nBig Race, you got t' have more'n speed. You can't depend on just that\nfor four hundred and eight miles. There's got t' be lots of endurance\nan' the dogs had ought t' really enjoy racin' t' do their best. But for\nthis race we're goin' in, Danny, I guess speed's the whole thing.\nSpeed, an' the dog's mindin' you.\" George glanced involuntarily toward\nJack McMillan, who sat with his head resting against the Woman's knee.\n\"You can't do anythin' at all, no matter how fast dogs is, if they don't\nmind.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid, Mr. McMillan,\" commented the Woman seriously, \"that these\npersonalities are meant for you. Just because your first owner spoiled\nyou, and the second paid the highest price ever given for a dog in the\nNorth, all accuse you of thinking yourself far too important to be\nclassed with the common herd whose chief virtue is obedience. They say\nyou lost a great race by being ungovernable. Guilty, or not guilty?\" The\nbrown eyes that had been wont to blaze so fiercely now looked pleadingly\ninto the Woman's face, and the sable muzzle was pressed more closely\nagainst her. \"They started you off all wrong, Jack. They let you become\nheadstrong, and then tried to force you arbitrarily into their ways,\ninstead of persuading you. If you had been a human being, all this would\nhave been considered Temperament, but being only a dog it was Temper,\nand was dealt with as such.\" McMillan gravely extended his paw in\nappreciation of her championship.\n\n\"Oh, I didn't only just mean Jack when I was talkin' about dogs not\nmindin',\" explained George with embarrassed haste; for he knew of the\nWoman's fondness for the dog and did not wish to hurt her feelings, much\nas he condemned her judgment in selecting such a favorite.\n\nHer preference had dated from the night when she had entered the Kennel\nafter a long absence, and had seen the stranger in the half light of the\nJune midnight. He had changed somewhat since the imperious days when he\nhad threatened the life of his trainer, and she had not recognized the\nIncorrigible in the handsome dog who had greeted her with such\nflattering cordiality.\n\nHe soon manifested an abject devotion to her, and would barely listen\neven to \"Scotty\" when she was near--the moment he heard her footsteps\nhowling insistently till she ignored all of the others and came directly\nto him. It became a matter of pride with her to take him into the\nstreets where people would still look askance at the erstwhile\n\"man-eater,\" and comment on her courage in handling the \"brute.\" While\nshe and the \"brute\" had the little joke between them, which she later\nconfided to Ben, that Jack McMillan's misdemeanors were merely the\nresult of an undisciplined nature handled unsympathetically, and that at\nheart he was the gentlest dog in Nome.\n\n\"Jack minds all right now,\" ventured Ben. \"I seen him the other day with\nMr. Allan, an' he minded as good as any of 'em--even Kid.\"\n\n\"Well, none of them could do better than that. 'Scotty' says that Kid\nhas every admirable quality that a dog could possibly possess, and that\nwithout a doubt he is the most promising racing leader in Alaska. But of\ncourse Jack would have to mind or he would not be here. The first thing\na new dog must realize is that 'Scotty' is the sole authority, and that\nobedience is the first law of the Kennel. Even with his first racing\ndriver I believe it was more a case of misunderstanding on both sides\nthan wilful disobedience. But it grew to a point where it became almost\na matter of life or death for one or the other.\"\n\n\"Moose Jones said they had t' break his tusks t' use him at all, an'\nthat it took three men t' hold him away from his driver sometimes; an'\nthat 'Scotty' was the only man in the whole North that could git the\nbest of him without breakin' his spirit. An' he seems terrible fond o'\n'Scotty'--I mean Mr. Allan--now.\"\n\n\"You may call him 'Scotty,' Ben; he doesn't mind in the least. He's\n'Scotty' to every Alaskan from Juneau to Barrow, Eskimos included--age\nno restraint. Yes, Jack is fond of 'Scotty,' but it took a battle royal\nto bring about this permanent peace.\"\n\n\"It's a wonder he wasn't killed before you an' 'Scotty' got him, if they\nwas all so scared t' handle him.\"\n\n\"He would have been killed except that his enormous strength and unusual\nalertness made him too valuable. So in spite of their fears they kept\nhim, but he was watched incessantly; and after his tusks were broken he\nbecame even more rebellious, and grew to distrust every one about him.\nPoor old fellow.\" She turned the handsome head toward the boy. \"Look at\nhim, Ben. Would you believe that they used to frighten naughty children\nby telling them that Jack was out looking for them?\"\n\nIt was a fact that his name had once carried a suggestion of grim terror\nand impending disaster in Nome. And the dark hint that McMillan of the\nBroken Tusks was in the neighborhood struck consternation to the hearts\nof infant malefactors, and had been the source of much unwilling virtue,\nand many a politic repentance on the part of those offenders hitherto\nonly impressed by the threatened arrival of the Policeman.\n\nBen regarded Jack with admiration and pity. He was sorry for even a dog\nthat has been misunderstood.\n\n\"No, ma'am, he don't look vicious, but he sure does look powerful. If a\nman had a whole team like Jack there'd hardly be a chanct t' beat him, I\ns'pose.\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure of that, Ben. Of course the team counts for a great\ndeal; so, too, does the skill of the driver. But there are many other\nthings that enter into this contest that do not have to be considered\nusually. Given a mile of smooth track and horses in perfect condition,\nwell mounted, the fastest one is apt to win. In a race that lasts for\nover three days and nights, however, through the roughest sort of\ncountry, in weather that may range from a thaw to a blizzard, and with\nfifteen or twenty dogs to manage, the Luck of the Trail is an enormous\nfactor. One team may run into a storm, and be delayed for hours, that\nanother may escape entirely; and a trivial accident may put the best\nteam and driver entirely out of commission.\"\n\n\"That's so,\" agreed Danny. \"That's what happened the year 'Scotty' lost\nthe race to Seppala, an' came in second. Don't you know, George, your\nfather told us it was near the end o' the run, an' the dogs was gettin'\npretty tired, so he put a loose leader at the head t' give 'em new\nlife--sort t' ginger 'em up. I guess that dog was as tired as the rest,\nan' nervous, 'cause he missed the trail in a terrible blow an' got\nseparated from 'Scotty' an' went back t' the Road House they'd left\nlast, like he'd been learned t' do. O' course 'Scotty' looked for him a\nwhile an' then went back for him. But it lost the race, all right, an'\nthe cinch he had on breakin' the record. With them four hours lost, an'\nwhat he done later, he'd 'a' made the best time ever known in a dog race\nin Alaska. Gee, it was awful.\"\n\nThe Woman sighed. \"Well, at least they can't blame the loss of _that_\nrace on you, can they, Jack? It certainly was hard luck, but we will\nhave to be good sports and try it again. Perhaps you'll develop a dog\nstar of the first magnitude for us in your race, boys.\"\n\nGeorge and Danny looked serious. It was a difficult problem--this\nassembling of a racing team, and the responsibility weighed heavily upon\nthem. Why, it meant the possibility of making a juvenile Record, and\nwinning a Cup, and naturally required a critical consideration of even\nthe smallest details.\n\n\"If I could only take some o' the Sweepstakes Dogs,\" mused George\nregretfully, \"it 'ud be dead easy; but Father says it wouldn't be fair\nt' the fellers that hasn't a racin' stable t' pick from. We got t' use\nsome o' the untried ones. I been thinkin' o' Spot for a leader. He seems\nsort o' awkward, 'cause he's raw-boned, an' ain't filled out yet; but\nall the other dogs like him, an' he'd ruther run than eat.\"\n\n\"Isn't he pretty young for that position?\" hazarded the Woman. \"Let me\nsee, he can't be much more than a year old now.\"\n\nShe remembered when he had been a common little fellow, but a short time\nago, sprawling in every mud-puddle, or wobbling uncertainly after the\nmany strange alluring things in the streets. Matt, who seemed to have\nsecond sight in regard to the invisible, latent good points in all\nhorses and dogs, had picked him up in the pound for a mere nothing; and\nto him there was granted the vision of a brilliant future for the\nvagrant puppy. \"Mark my words,\" he had said decisively when Spot's fate\nhung in the balance, \"you can't go wrong on him; he'll be a credit to us\nall some day.\" And so Spot was rescued from death, or at least from a\nlife of poverty and obscurity, and given to George Allan to become his\nconstant companion.\n\n\"You know,\" she persisted, \"if a leader is too young he's apt to become\nover-zealous and important the way Irish did the day we loaned him to\nCharlie Thompson in the first Moose Handicap. Don't you remember he was\ndisgusted at the way they were being managed by a rank novice, so he\ntook his place in front of a rival team that was being well driven, and\nled them to victory, with the whole town cheering and yelling? You don't\nwant that to happen to you, because your leader is inexperienced.\"\n\n\"It ain't the same thing at all,\" explained George patiently; for it is\never the man's part to try to be patient with the feminine ignorance of\ndogs and baseball and other essential things about which women seem to\nhave no intuition. \"You see, I ain't goin' to drive him loose. A dog\nshouldn't ever be a loose leader unless he's a wonder at managin' all\nthe rest, an' young dogs ain't generally had the trainin' for it. After\na dog has showed he can find the trail, an' keep it, an' set the pace,\nan' make the others mind him, bein' a loose leader's kind of an honor\nhe's promoted to; like bein' a General in the army. He don't have t' be\nhitched up to the tow-line any more, an' pull; he just has t' think, an'\nkeep the team out o' trouble.\"\n\n\"It's too bad that dogs aren't driven with lines instead of spoken\norders--then there wouldn't be all of the bother about a leader every\ntime.\" Both George and Danny looked at her for a moment with a contempt\nthey barely succeeded in concealing. Even Ben Edwards was unpleasantly\nsurprised, and he was not given to regarding her vagaries with\nunfriendly criticism.\n\nDrive with lines! Bother about a leader! Why, if dogs were driven with\nlines there would be no more interest in driving a dog team than there\nis in driving a delivery wagon, or running an automobile. All of the\nfascination of having your dogs answer to your will, voluntarily and\nintelligently, would be lost in the mechanical response to the jerk and\nthe pull of the reins.\n\nShe was utterly hopeless. There was no use of a further waste of words\nwith her on such matters.\n\nGeorge turned to Danny and Ben. They were discerning, and capable of\ngrasping a dog man's point of view. \"Then there's Queen, for one\nwheeler. You know we're only allowed three dogs, an' we got t' be mighty\ncareful.\"\n\n\"I expect it's pretty near 's important t' git the right wheel dogs as\n'tis a leader, ain't it, George? Bein' next t' the sled an' so close t'\nthe driver an' load, they allers seem t' kinda manage the business end\no' things.\"\n\n\"That's right, Ben. That's why we got t' be sure o' gettin' good\nwheelers. In racin' there's no load, but it takes some managin' just the\nsame t' keep the sled right on side hills an' goin' down steep slopes.\nO' course in a short race I wouldn't get into the sled at all, an' on\nthe runners at the back I can get my feet on the brake easy. But Father\nan' Matt say that you want your wheelers t' know just what their duties\nis if the brake gets out o' order, or any thin' goes wrong.\"\n\n\"Wheelers have to be clever, and strong and tractable then--rather a\nbig order,\" murmured the Woman somewhat meekly, as one seeking\ninformation.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am,\" replied Danny politely, \"all o' that, an' I was just\nwonderin' if Queen 'ud do for the place.\"\n\nQueen, another present of Matt's to George, was a Gordon Setter with a\nstrong admixture of native blood, and was hopeless as a regular team dog\nbecause of her high-strung and irritable disposition. Naturally nervous,\nshe had become, with the advent of her first family, so fierce that it\nwas dangerous for any one to approach her except George, and for him she\ncheerfully left her puppies to be of service in sled pulling.\n\n\"Oh, I think she'll do; when you know Queen an' like her she ain't so\nbad; an' besides not bein' able t' take any o' the real racers don't\nleave us much choice.\"\n\n\"Do you--don't you think you could use Baldy?\" suggested Ben eagerly.\n\"He's no locomotive like McMillan, ner a flyin' machine like them Tolman\ndogs an' Irish an' Rover; but you've no idea how powerful an' willin' he\nis till you've tried him. Just give him a show, George. I'm 'most sure\nhe'd make good. Moose Jones allers said he would.\"\n\nThere was a moment of serious consideration on the part of George,\nwhile Danny eyed Baldy critically, and remarked with discrimination,\n\"Better take him; some o' these common lookin' dogs has the right stuff\nin 'em. If looks was everythin' I guess you an' me 'ud be scrappin' over\nOolik Lomen or Margaret Winston, that new fox-hound Russ Downing just\ngot from Kentucky. But you an' me know too much t' get took in by just\ngood looks, George.\"\n\n\"All right, Ben. I'll take Baldy for the other wheel dog,\" said George\nas he ran his hand over Baldy's sturdy, muscular body. \"He'll be able to\nshow somethin' o' what's in him in this dash. Now we'd better see about\nDanny's team.\"\n\nThe Woman's observation that she thought Jemima, being black, would make\na more artistic wheel-mate for Queen from the standpoint of color\nharmony, than would white-faced sable Baldy, was silently ignored, as\nwas merited.\n\nAnd so, in defiance of Art, and in spite of her evident prejudice\nagainst him, Baldy made one of George Allan's Racing Team.\n\nDanny, after much discussion and deep thought, selected Judge for his\nleader, and Jimmie and Pete as wheelers. They were all steady and\nreliable, and made up a more dependable team than George's uncertain\ncombination of youthful Spot, fiery Queen, and untried Baldy.\n\nBen was elated that the latter had been accepted by such experts as\nbeing worthy a place in the coming event. And as he left the Kennel to\nrush home to tell his mother the great news, he pictured Baldy in his\ncoming r\u00f4le of wheeler in so distinguished a company. \"I'm mighty glad I\ngive him up when I did,\" he thought cheerfully. \"Baldy is sure gettin'\nhis chanct now.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nThe Plodder\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE PLODDER\n\n\nThe last two weeks before the Alaska Juvenile Race, as the Nome Kennel\nClub had announced it, were busy ones, not only for the boys who were to\nactually take part in it, but for all of their friends as well. For\nthose who had not teams for the event had more than likely loaned a dog,\na sled or a harness to one of the contestants, and consequently felt a\ndeep personal interest in all incidents connected with the various\nentries.\n\nTo Ben Edwards the time was full of diversions, for every afternoon on\nhis way home from school he stopped at the Kennel to curry and brush\nBaldy or help George and Danny in the care of the other dogs whose\ncondition was of such moment now.\n\nWhen George felt that he should give Spot special training to fit him\nfor his new position as leader, or took Queen out under the strict\ndiscipline he knew would be necessary to prepare her for the ordeal, he\nwould ask Ben to hitch Baldy to one of the small sleds and give him a\nrun.\n\nBaldy's nature had always expressed itself best in action, and Ben was\ndelighted with the ease with which he adjusted himself to serious sled\nwork. There were no more romps, no more games, but his pace became even\nand steady, and he required no threats and no inducements to make him do\nhis best.\n\n\"There's one thing about Baldy,\" admitted George freely, \"you don't have\nt' jolly him along all the time. Why, even with Spot I have to say\n'Snowbirds' an' 'Rabbits' every little while when I want him to go\nfaster, an' then you should see him mush. You know that's what Father\nsays t' Tom, Dick 'an' Harry, an' Rover an' Irish. It's fine with any of\n'em that's got bird-dog blood, an' you know Spot's part pointer. O'\ncourse they don't have t' really see snowbirds an' rabbits, but they\njust love t' hear about 'em, an' begin t' look ahead right away. An' if\nthey do happen t' see 'em, they pretty nearly jump out o' their harness,\nthey're so crazy for 'em.\"\n\n\"Baldy's part bird-dog, too,\" said Ben, \"but I been watchin' him close,\nan' it ain't anythin' outside that makes him want t' go; it's more like\nhe feels a sort o' duty about doin' the very best he kin fer any one\nthat's usin' him. He's allers willin' t' do more'n his share; an' he's\nlots happier when he's workin' hard than when he's just lyin' idle in\nthe stable, or bein' trotted out by Matt fer a walk.\"\n\n\"I wisht I was like that,\" muttered Danny gloomily. \"That bein' happiest\nwhen you're workin' hard must be great; but I guess it's only dogs an'\nmebbe some men that's like that. I don't know o' any boys that's got\nsuch feelin's.\"\n\n[Illustration: NOME, ALASKA, FROM BERING SEA]\n\nWhen the day of the Boys' Race arrived, a day clear, and beautiful, and\nonly a degree or two below zero, it seemed as if all of Nome had decided\nto celebrate the momentous occasion; going in crowds to the starting\nplace, which was a broad, open thoroughfare on the outskirts of town.\nThose especially interested in the individual teams gathered at the\nvarious kennels to see the dogs harnessed and the young drivers prepared\nfor their test as trailsmen in the coming struggle.\n\nIt was Saturday, and a general holiday, and Ben's mother had given him\npermission to go to the Kennel early; so that when George and Dan\narrived they found their dogs smooth and shining from the energetic\ngrooming that Ben had given them.\n\n\"It's awful good of you, Ben,\" said George appreciatively. \"Danny an' me\ncame in plenty o' time t' do it ourselves, an' Matt said he'd help us\ntoo; an' now you've got 'em lookin' finer'n silk. I'll bet even\nFather'll say they're as fine as a Sweepstakes Team, an' he's mighty\npartic'lar, I can tell you. But I don't see how you got Queen t' stand\nfor it.\"\n\n\"I talked to 'er jest the way you do, an' then walked straight up to 'er\nso's she'd see I wasn't afeared. Moose Jones says it's no use tryin' t'\ndo anything with a dog that knows you're scared. He told me the reason\nyour father made a good dog out o' Jack McMillan was because he wasn't\nafeared of him, an' give the dog an even break in the terrible fight\nthey had.\"\n\n\"Father always does that,\" responded George proudly. \"He believes you\ngot t' show a dog once for all that you're master of him at his very\nbest. If you tie a dog o' McMillan's spirit, an' beat him t' make him\nobey, he always thinks he hadn't a fair chance. But if you can show him\nthat he can't down you, no matter how good a scrap he puts up, he'll\nrespect you an' like you the way Jack does Dad.\"\n\n\"I don't believe me an' Queen'd ever have any trouble now,\" observed Ben\nthoughtfully. \"Some way I guess we kinda understand each other better'n\nwe did before.\"\n\n\"Well, it sure shows you got courage,\" exclaimed Dan admiringly. \"I\nwouldn't touch that snarlin' brute o' George's, not if I could win this\nrace by it, an' you know what I'd do fer that.\" He examined Judge,\nJimmie, and Pete, with profound satisfaction. They were compactly built,\nof an even tan color, short haired, bob-tailed, and all about the same\nsize, being brothers in one litter. Their sturdy legs suggested strength\nand their intelligent faces spoke of amiability as well as alertness.\nThey were indeed worthy sons of the fleet hound mother--Mego--whose\npuppies rank so high in the racing world beyond the frozen sea. \"They\njust glisten, Ben. You must 'a' worked hard t' get 'em lookin' as smooth\nan' shinin' as the fur neck-pieces the girls wear.\"\n\n\"O' course I wanted t' git Baldy ready fer his first race; an' doin'\nlittle things fer the other dogs is about the only way I kin pay\neverybody round here fer all they're doin' fer him.\"\n\nBaldy was fast learning not to despise the detail that had made the new\nlife so irksome before he realized how necessary it is in a large\nKennel; and he now stood patiently waiting for his harness, while long\ndiscussions took place as to the adjustment of every strap, and the\nposition of every buckle.\n\n\"Scotty\" and Matt had come in to be ready with counsel and service, if\nnecessary; then the Allan girls and many of the children from the\nneighborhood arrived, and later the Woman appeared with the Big Man whom\nBaldy some way associated invariably with her, and a yellow malamute\nwhom Baldy invariably associated with him.\n\nThe Big Man always spoke pleasantly to the dogs, and had won Baldy's\napproval by not interfering--as did the Woman--in Kennel affairs; and\nthe malamute--the Yellow Peril, as the Woman had named him--was plainly\nantagonistic to the Racers, at whom he growled with much enthusiasm. And\nso Baldy was glad to see the Big Man and the Peril amongst the\nacquaintances and strangers who were thronging into the place.\n\nGeorge brought out a miniature racing sled--his most prized\npossession--and a perfect reproduction of the one \"Scotty\" used in the\nBig Races, being built strongly, but on delicate lines. Danny pulled\nanother, only a trifle less rakish, beside it. They were conversing in\nlow tones. \"We got pretty nearly half an hour t' wait, Dan, an' it's\nfierce t' have all these people that don't know a blame thing about\nracin' standin' round here givin' us fool advice. Why, if we was t' do\nwhat they're tellin', we'd be down an' out before we reached Powell's\ndredge on Bourbon Creek. Most of 'em don't know any more 'bout dogs 'n I\ndo 'bout--'bout--\"\n\n\"'Rithmetic,\" suggested Danny promptly.\n\n\"Well, anyway, we got t' run our own race. Dad says there ain't any cut\nan' dried rules for dog racin' beyond knowin' your dogs, an' usin'\ncommon sense. Each time it's different, 'cordin' t' the dogs, the\ndistance, the trail an' the weather. An' you have t' know just what it's\nbest t' do whatever happens, even if it never happened before.\"\n\n\"Gee,\" sighed Danny heavily, \"winnin' automobile races an' horse races\nis takin' candy from babies besides this here dog racin'. I hadn't any\nidea how much there was to it till we begun t' train the dogs, an' talk\nit over with your father. I was awful nervous last night, I don't\nbelieve I slept hardly any, worryin' about the things that can go wrong,\nno matter how careful you are.\"\n\n\"I didn't sleep any, either. I got t' thinkin' about Queen hatin'\nEskimos, an' chasin' 'em every time she gets a chance. It 'ud be a\nterrible thing if she saw one out on the tundra, an' left the trail t'\ntry and ketch him; or if she smelled some of 'em in the crowd an' made a\nbreak for 'em just when she ought t' be ready t' start. An' you know\nthere's bound t' be loads of Eskimos, 'cause they'd rather see a dog\nrace than eat a seal-blubber banquet.\"\n\n\"That's so; but Spot is good friends with all the natives 'round town,\nan' he's stronger'n Queen, an' wouldn't leave the trail for anything but\nsnowbirds or rabbits, so he'd hold 'er down. An' I guess Baldy'd be\nkinda neutral, 'cause he don't pay attention t' Eskimos or anything when\nhe's workin'. I never saw a dog mind his own business like Baldy. That's\nworth somethin' in a race.\" The inactivity was becoming unbearable.\n\"George, if you and Ben'll get the dogs into harness, I'll go an' see\nwhat's doin' with some of the others. It'll sort o' fill in time.\"\n\nBen and George hitched the dogs to the respective sleds after Spot, in\nthe exuberant joy of a prospective run, had dashed madly about, barking\nboisterously, a thing absolutely prohibited in that well-ordered\nhousehold. \"Scotty\" and Matt refrained from all criticism of George's\nleader, knowing that both the boy and dog were unduly excited by the\nnoisy, laughing groups surrounding them. Queen, while she waited with\nvery scant patience for the strange situation, diverted herself by\nnipping viciously at any one who went past, and Baldy stood quiet and\ndifferent save when Ben Edwards was near, or \"Scotty\" spoke kindly to\nhim.\n\nMego's sons, as was natural with such a parent, and with Allan's\ntraining since they were born, behaved with perfect propriety; and there\nwere many compliments for Dan's team, which manifested a polite interest\nin the development of affairs.\n\nShortly Dan returned with somewhat encouraging information about the\nrival teams.\n\n\"Bob's got three dogs better matched 'n yours as t' size,\" he remarked\njudicially, \"but his leader, old Nero, 's most twelve, you remember, 'nd\nwants t' stop an' wag his tail, an' give his paw t' every kid that\nspeaks to him. Bill's got some bully pups, but his sled's no good; it's\nhis mother's kitchen chair nailed onto his skiis. Jimmie's team's a\npeach, an' so's his sled; but Jim drives like a--like a girl,\" finished\nMr. Kelly scornfully, with the tone of one who disposes of that\ncontestant effectively and finally. \"For looks an' style, I can tell\nyou, George, there ain't any of 'em that's a patch on my team. Some\nPupmobile!\"\n\nHe glanced proudly at the wide-awake dogs who showed their breeding and\neducation at every turn, and then toward George's ill-assorted\ncollection: Spot, rangy, raw-boned, and awkward, Queen fretful and\nmutinous, and Baldy so stolid that it was evident he was receiving no\ninspiration from the enthusiasm about him.\n\n\"Of course you can beat me drivin' without half tryin', George, an' if\nSpot's feet wasn't so big, an' Queen didn't have such a rotten\ndisposition, an' Baldy knew he was alive, it 'ud be a regular cinch for\nyou. But the way things is, believe me, I'm goin' t' give you a run for\nyour money, with good old Mego's 'houn' dogs.'\"\n\nBoth George and Dan had, of course, like all small boys in Nome, at one\ntime or another, made swift and hazardous dashes of a few hundred yards,\nin huge chopping bowls purloined from their mothers' pantries; and drawn\nby any one dog that was available for the instant, and would tamely\nsubmit to the degradation. An infantile amusement, they felt now, in the\nface of this real Sporting Event that was engaging the attention of the\nentire town. And to complete the feeling that this was indeed no mere\nchild's play, the Woman came to them with two cups of hot tea to warm\nthem up, and steady their nerves on the trail. This they graciously\naccepted and drank, in spite of its very unpleasant taste; for \"Scotty\"\nalways drank tea while giving Matt the last few necessary directions\nbefore a race.\n\n\"All ready, boys, time to leave,\" called the Big Man cheerily. \"Peril\nand I will go ahead, and charge the multitudes so that you can get\nthrough.\"\n\nThe Allan girls pressed forward hurriedly to give George two treasured\nemblems of Good Luck--a four-leaf clover in a crumpled bit of silver\npaper, and a tiny Billiken in ivory, the cherished work of Happy Jack,\nthe Eskimo Carver.\n\nEqually potent charms in the form of a rabbit's foot, and a rusty\nhorseshoe were tendered Danny by his staunch supporters.\n\nAt the big door of the Kennel the boys stopped for a final word. \"We\nwon't make a sound if we should have to pass on the trail,\" said George.\n\"We'll be as silent as the dead,\" an expression recently acquired, and\none which seemed in keeping with these solemn moments. \"All the dogs\nknow our voices, an' if we should speak they might stop just like they\nhave when we've been exercisin' 'em, an' wanted t' talk things over.\nWe'll pull the hoods of our parkas over our heads, an' turn our faces\naway so's not to attract 'em. Dan, I do want t' win this race awful bad,\n'cause o' my father mostly, but you bet I hope you'll come in a close\nsecond.\"\n\n\"Same to you, George,\" and they made their way to the middle of the\nstreet, where they fell in behind the Big Man and the Peril, and were\nflanked by the Woman and \"Scotty,\" Matt and Ben, with most of the others\nwho had waited for this imposing departure.\n\nThe other entries had already arrived at the starting point, where there\nwas much confusion and zeal in keeping the bewildered dogs in order. It\nwas a new game, and they did not quite comprehend what was expected of\nthem.\n\nAt last, however, the Timekeeper, and Starter, assisted by various\nmembers of the Kennel Club, had cleared a space into which the first\nentry was led with great ceremony. It was Bob, with the cordial, if\nancient, Nero in the lead.\n\nThey were to leave three minutes apart; the time of each team being\ncomputed from the moment of its departure till its return, as is always\ndone in the Great Races.\n\nThe Timekeeper stood with his watch in his hand, and the Starter beside\nhim. Bob, eager for the word, spoke soothingly to the dogs to keep them\nquiet. He was devoutly hoping that Nero would not discover any intimate\nfriend in the crowd and insist upon a formal greeting; for Nero's\naffability was a distinct disadvantage on such an occasion.\n\nAt last the moment came, and the Starter's \"Go\" was almost simultaneous\nwith Bob's orders to his leader, whose usual dignified and leisurely\nmovements were considerably hastened by the thunderous applause of the\nspectators.\n\nIt was a \"bully get-away,\" George and Dan agreed, and only hoped that\ntheirs would be as satisfactory.\n\nBill followed with equal ease, and equal approbation.\n\nJim, justifying Dan's earlier unfavorable report, lost over a minute by\nletting his dogs become tangled up in their harness, and then coaxing\nthem to leave instead of commanding.\n\n\"Wouldn't that jar you?\" whispered Dan disgustedly. \"Why, your sister\nHelen does better'n that in those girly-girly races, even if she does\nsay she'd rather get a beatin' herself than give one to a dog.\"\n\nBut the general public looked with more lenient eyes upon such\nmistakes, and Jim left amidst the same enthusiasm that had sped the\nothers on their way.\n\nWhen Dan and his dogs lined up there was much admiration openly\nexpressed.\n\n\"Looks like a Sweepstakes team through the wrong end of the opry\nglasses, don't it?\" exclaimed Matt with justifiable pride to Black Mart\nBarclay, who happened to be next him.\n\nMart scrutinized the entry closely. \"Not so bad. Them Mego pups is\nallers fair lookers an' fair go-ers, so fur's I ever heered t' the\ncontrary,\" he admitted grudgingly.\n\nThere was an air of repressed but pleasurable expectation about the\nlittle \"houn' dogs,\" as they patiently waited for their signal to go.\nTheir racing manners were absolutely above reproach. Unlike Nero, they\nquite properly ignored the merely social side of the event, and were\nevidently intent upon the serious struggle before them; and equally\nunlike Queen and Baldy, they showed neither the peevishness of the one,\nnor the apathy of the other.\n\nBy most people the race was practically conceded to Dan before the\nstart.\n\nIt seemed an endless time to George before it was his turn; but when he\nfinally stepped into place, the nervousness that had made the wait\nalmost unbearable disappeared completely. The hood of his fur parka had\ndropped back, and his yellow hair, closely cropped that it should not\ncurl and \"make a sissy\" of him, gleamed golden in the sunlight above a\nface that, usually rosy and smiling, was now pale and determined.\n\nIn that far world \"outside,\" George Allan would have been at an age when\nringlets and a nurse-maid are just beginning to chafe a proud man's\nspirit; but here in the North he was already \"Some Musher,\"[1] and was\neager to win the honors that would prove him a worthy son of the\nGreatest Dog Man in Alaska.\n\n[Footnote 1: \"Musher\"--driver, trailsman.]\n\nTrue to their several characteristics, Spot manifested an amiable and\nwide-awake interest in all about him, Queen repelled all advances with\nsnaps and snarls, and Baldy quivered with a dread of the unknown, and\nwas only reassured when he felt Ben Edwards' hand on his collar, and\nlistened to the low, encouraging tones of the boy's voice.\n\n[Illustration: THE START OF AN ALASKAN DOG TEAM RACE]\n\n\"Too bad, Matt,\" drawled Black Mart, \"that the little Allan kid's usin'\nBaldy. He was allers an ornery beast, an' combin' his hair an' puttin'\ntassels an' fancy harness on him ain't goin' t' make a racer outen a\ncur.\"\n\nBen's face flushed hotly. \"It ain't just beauty that counts, Baldy; it's\nwhat you got clear down in your heart that folks can't see,\" he thought,\nand clung the more lovingly to the trembling dog.\n\nMatt carefully shook the ashes from his pipe. \"It's a mighty good thing,\nMart, that people an' dogs ain't judged entirely by looks. If they was,\nthere's some dogs that's racin' that would be in the pound, an' some men\nthat's criticizin' that would be in jail.\"\n\n\"Ready.\"\n\nGeorge, poised lightly on the runners at the back of the trim sled,\nfirmly grasped the curved top, and repeated the word to Spot, who held\nhimself motionless but in perfect readiness for the final signal.\n\n\"Go.\"\n\nWith unexpected buoyancy and ease, Spot darted ahead, and for once\nQueen forgot her grievances, and Baldy his fears; as in absolute harmony\nof action, the incongruous team sped quickly down the length of the\nstreet, and over the edge of the Dry Creek hill; to reappear shortly on\nthe trail that led straight out to the Bessie Bench.\n\nThe Road House there was the turning point, where the teams would pass\nround a pole at which was stationed a guard; and the collection of\nbuildings which marked the end of half of the course looked distant\nindeed to the five young mushers who with their teams had now become, to\nthe watchers in Nome, merely small moving black specks against the\nwhiteness of the snow.\n\nGeorge and Dan had discussed the matter fully in the preceding days, and\nhad decided that, like \"Scotty,\" they would do all of the real driving\non the way home. So it was not at all disconcerting, some time before\nthey reached the turn, to meet two of the teams coming back. The third,\nJim's, had been diverted at the Road House by a large family of small\npigs in an enclosure surrounded by wire netting; and Jim's most alluring\npromises and his direst threats were both unavailing against the charms\nof the squealing, grunting creatures, the like of which his spellbound\nchargers had never seen before.\n\nDan was several hundred feet ahead of George, and the latter could but\nlook with some misgivings at the even pace of Judge, Jimmie and Pete; a\npace that as yet showed no sign of weakening. Of course should Mego's\npups prove faster than his own team, he would loyally give all credit\ndue the driver and dogs; but it would be a bitter disappointment indeed\nif Spot did not manifest the wonderful speed that Matt had always\npredicted for him, and if there was no evidence in superior ability, of\nthe long hours of careful attention that George had devoted to his\neducation as a leader.\n\nWhen Dan's team finally rounded the pole, and was headed toward him,\nGeorge realized that the work of Mego's sons evinced not only mechanical\nprecision, but the intelligence of their breeding, and the advantages of\ntheir early training by \"Scotty.\" Dan would indeed, as he had boasted,\n\"give them a run for their money.\"\n\n\"_Mush_, Spot, Queen, Baldy,\" and there was a slight increase in\nbriskness, which was checked again as they swung by the guard.\n\n\"Now then, Spot,\" and George gave a peculiar shrill whistle that to the\ndog meant \"Full Speed Ahead.\"\n\nHe watched the distance between himself and Dan decrease slowly at\nfirst; then more rapidly until they were abreast of one another. True to\ntheir compact they did not speak, and the inclination of Spot to stop\nfor the usual visit beside his stable mates received no encouragement.\nInstead he got a stern command to \"Hike, and hike _quick_!\"\n\nBeyond were the other teams, almost together, and to George it seemed as\nif he barely crept toward Bob and Bill; though there was a steady gain\nto the point where he could call out for the right of way to pass--a\nprivilege the driver of the faster team can demand.\n\nBut just behind him came Dan, whose dogs now felt the inspiration of the\nstiff gait set them by their friends; and both boys knew that from now\non the race was between them alone.\n\nGeorge was more experienced in handling dogs, but Dan's dogs were easier\nto handle. It was narrowing down to a question of the skill of the\ndriver on one side, pitted against the excellence of the dogs on the\nother. Unless, indeed, Spot, Queen or Baldy should rise to the occasion\nin some unexpected manner; or the Luck of the Trail, that the Woman\nbelieved was so potent a factor, should enter into the contest.\n\nThey were approaching the last quarter of the course, where the road\nfrom Monroeville crossed the trail diagonally. George glanced back and\nsaw that he would have to travel faster still to shake off Dan's\ntireless \"Pupmobile.\"\n\nFor a moment he wondered despairingly why he had been so short-sighted\nas to choose three unknown quantities in such an important event,\nleaving to Dan those whose worth was a foregone conclusion. Then his\nsporting blood rose. If no one ever attempted anything new, it would be\na pretty slow old world. And if he had not the courage to try Spot out,\nhis pet might remain an ordinary, commonplace dog to the end of his\ndays; a condition that would be intolerable to George. Then, too, it\nwould have been a disappointment to Ben if Baldy could not have entered;\nand Ben's feelings were now of much consequence to George and Danny, as\nthey had admitted him, a third member, to their exclusive secret\nsociety, \"The Ancient and Honorable Order of Bow-Wow Wonder Workers.\"\nBetter defeat than a fair chance not taken; and so, at such thoughts he\nwas cheered and again whistled to Spot to \"Speed Up.\"\n\nBut just at that instant there came, down the Monroeville Road, and\naround the base of a small rise of ground, a Native hunter over whose\nshoulder was hung a dozen or more ptarmigan, the grouse of the North.\nSpot paused instantly, and seemed petrified in an attitude which his\ndistant grandsires, old in field work, might have envied for its perfect\nimmobility. The fact that the birds were dead and on a string meant\nnothing to his untutored mind. They were birds, and as such were worthy\nof a close and careful inspection.\n\nSimultaneously Queen's hatred of Eskimos received an impetus; and joined\nby the now aroused Spot, she started off the trail toward the\nunconscious cause of her deep-seated antipathy.\n\n\"A double-ender,\" groaned George; \"dead birds, and an Eskimo. Spot and\nQueen won't show up till everything's over but the shoutin'. I'll just\nabout tie for fourth place if Jim gets his pups away from the pigs\nabout the time Queen finishes with the hunter.\"\n\nBut tug as desperately as they might, neither Spot nor Queen succeeded\nin pulling the sled more than a few feet; for added to George's weight\non the brake, Baldy, calm and immovable, was braced against the efforts\nof the other two.\n\nSpot's ungainly feet pawed the snow impatiently, as he strained in his\ncollar stretching the tow-line so taut that George feared it might snap.\nEqually unavailing were Queen's sudden leaps and frantic plunges. The\nmore they struggled, the more firmly Baldy held to the trail.\n\nAt last George's stern reproofs, and a certain reasonableness in Spot\nthat prompted him to accept the inevitable gracefully, combined to end\nthe disturbance. Besides, the birds did not run nor fly, so they were\nnot much fun anyway.\n\nNot for Queen, however, was any such placid acceptance of defeat. Balked\nof her expected prey, she turned fiercely against her wheel-mate, whom\nshe rightly considered responsible for her inability to bolt; and after\none or two efforts, she fastened her teeth in his ear, leaving a small\nwound from which the blood trickled, staining his collar and shoulder.\nGeorge expected Baldy to retaliate, but instead the dog ignored the\nattack and still held his ground with a determination that even Queen\nrecognized, and to which she finally submitted unwillingly.\n\nBut in the time it took to adjust their difficulties, Dan caught up with\nthem, and together the two teams dashed down the trail, neck and neck.\n\nDan longed to shout some facetious criticisms of the behavior he had\njust witnessed, but a certain sympathy for his rival, who was also his\nfriend, restrained him; as well as the desire to conserve every atom of\nenergy he possessed, even to saving his breath.\n\nFor a few hundred yards there was no perceptible difference in their\npositions; then gradually the Mego Pups pulled away and took the lead by\na small margin.\n\nNose to the back of Dan's sled came Spot, and so they sped on and on\ntill the bridge and high bank of Dry Creek came into view, as well as\nthe moving dark objects that the boys knew to be the crowds awaiting\ntheir return.\n\nGeorge, desperately anxious to try the signal that would urge his\nleader to his utmost, waited till they reached the top of a slight\nincline. Then the whistle sounded low, but clear. Spot leaped forward,\nand Queen and Baldy were no laggards in his wake.\n\nOnce more they were abreast of the \"houn' dogs,\" and once more the tried\nand untried of the same Kennel raced side by side, with even chances of\nvictory.\n\nThen again came the Luck of the Trail; and Fate that had sent dead birds\nas a temptation now sent a live cat as an inspiration. It was black and\nsleek and swift, and fairly flew from a clump of willows by the wayside,\nup the trail toward a cabin on the edge of town; and after it flew Spot,\nall eagerness for the chase.\n\nDan's team, as indifferent to the fascination of swift, sleek cats as\nonly dogs of \"Scotty's\" training could be, were pursuing the even tenor\nof their way in no wise excited by the episode.\n\nWhen the cat darted out of sight to safety George's dogs were almost at\nthe starting point and the crowds had hurried to meet them; keeping free\nonly a narrow passage down which they dashed with unabated speed. For\nwhile they were tired, and home and rest were near, the cheers and\napplause of the people egged them on till they crossed the line, where\nGeorge was greeted as Winner of the First Annual, Juvenile Race of Nome.\n\nHe had covered the course of seven miles in thirty minutes and six\nseconds, while two minutes behind came Dan, just in time to offer loyal\nhomage on the altar of friendship and success. There was a warm clasp of\nthe hand, and a sincere if brief tribute. \"You are some swell racer,\nGeorge,\" and, as one making a vow, \"you can bet I'll never throw rocks\nat another black cat so long as I live.\"\n\nShortly Bob and Bill arrived, well pleased that they were so close to\nthe Victor--but there was no sign of Jim; whereupon Mr. Kelly delivered\nhimself of a scathing comment. \"I guess next time Jim 'd better enter\nthe High School Girls' Handicap; these real races ain't any place for\nhim.\"\n\nThe presentation of the tiny Trophy Cup was a formal function. George,\nheld up in the Judge's arms that he might be seen as he received it, was\nfilled not only with present pride, but also with an inward\ndetermination to devote the rest of his existence to the high calling of\ndog racing; with perhaps an occasional descent into the lower realms of\nschool affairs and business, as a concession to the wishes of his\nparents and in deference to their age and old-fashioned ideas.\n\nHis happiness in the accomplishment of his dogs was complete. His hard\nwork in their training had been fully repaid; for Spot had not only\nproved his cleverness as a leader, but Queen had been no worse than he\nhad anticipated, and Baldy had faithfully performed his duty as a\nwheeler in keeping the trail when it was most necessary.\n\nIt was a triumph worth while for the boy and the team.\n\nThat night at a full meeting of the \"Bow-Wow Wonder Workers,\" the\nexciting affairs of the day were discussed at length.\n\nDan announced that he could recommend the Mego Pups to \"Scotty\" without\na single unfavorable criticism. If there had been any weakness, it was,\nhe admitted freely, in his driving. \"I don't seem to put the ginger into\n'em the way George does at the finish. But I guess he takes it from his\nfather; and my dad,\" regretfully, \"never drove anything better 'n horses\nin his whole life. Then there was that black cat, too.\"\n\nBen Edwards, with his arm around Baldy's neck, listened with delight as\nthe minute details of the race were given by those who knew whereof they\nspoke. He was proud indeed when George told how Baldy had steadfastly\nheld out against the efforts of Spot and Queen to bolt; and of the dog's\nstoical indifference to the bitten ear, which was, fortunately, only\nslightly torn.\n\n\"I guess, Ben, that Baldy'll be somethin' like old Dubby. You can count\non him doin' the right thing every time. He'll pull 'most as strong as\nMcMillan, and he sure was good not to chew Queen up, the way she tackled\nhim. But I don't know,\" judicially, \"that we can make a real racer of\nhim. He don't seem to have just the racin' spirit. He ain't keen for it,\nlike Spot. But he's a bully all 'round dog, just the same.\"\n\n\"Mebbe it's cause he don't understand the game,\" answered Ben loyally.\n\"Moose Jones allers said that Baldy had plenty o' spirit; an' I kinda\nthink he's like the ship she was tellin' us about the other day. He\nain't really found himself yet.\"\n\nThe Woman, perfectly unconscious that she was penetrating into a serious\nand secret Conclave of an Ancient and Honorable Order, came into the\nKennel with the evening paper.\n\nIt contained an article complimenting George upon his skill in managing\na difficult team, and upon introducing Spot, an infant prodigy, to the\nracing world of the North. Then it announced, in a delicate vein of\nsarcasm, that one of the wheel dogs had been the most recent notable\naddition to the Allan and Darling Kennel--Baldy, late of Golconda, now\nof Nome, \"a likely Sweepstakes Winner.\" At which the Woman had sniffed\naudibly, and \"Scotty\" had chuckled amiably. But Ben Edwards crept that\nnight into his hard cot with the paper tightly clasped in his grimy\nhand, to dream of Baldy's future triumphs.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nThe Woman, The Racers, and Others\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE WOMAN, THE RACERS, AND OTHERS\n\n\nEven after the boys' race, when George and Dan often singled him out for\nspecial use, and the joy of a run with Ben Edwards was almost an\ninevitable part of the day's program, there were still a number of\nmatters that were distinctly trying to Baldy.\n\nHe could not, for one thing, quite figure out the Woman, nor reconcile\nhimself to her constant presence and aimless wanderings about the place.\n\nWhen \"Scotty\" and Matt, or even Danny and George came in, it was for\nsome evident purpose; when the boy appeared, it was to see him\nexclusively, but it was different with her.\n\nShe apparently loved all of the dogs, but she had no idea of discipline,\nand casually suggested all sorts of foolish and revolutionary privileges\nfor them that would have meant ruin in no time.\n\nShe held the tiniest puppies in her lap when she should have known it\nwas not good for them, spent hours playing with the young dogs with no\nattempt at training; and he could not forget that she had tried, the\nfirst day he had ever met her, to drag him ignominiously into her sled.\n\nEven Ben's evident friendliness toward her did not overcome Baldy's\ndisapproval, though he frequently went with them for long walks which\nwould have been far more agreeable could he have been with the boy\nalone. She quite monopolized his chum, talking so earnestly that the dog\nwas almost ignored, and could only trot along with the consolation that\nBen shared was better than Ben absent.\n\nThen, too, she was not in the least discriminating, and told Tom, who\nperhaps had as many faults as any member of the team, that he had an\n\"angel face\"; spoke of Dick and Harry, clever imitators of their\nbrother's misdeeds, as \"The Heavenly Twins\"; and alluded to Irish and\nRover, gentle Irish Setters, as \"Red Devils,\" which was so rankly unjust\nthat Baldy, who knew not automobiles, was amazed at her stupidity. To\nBaldy the word \"Devil\" had an evil sound, for when he had heard it at\nGolconda it was generally associated with a kick or a blow. She even\nostentatiously walked past the chained dogs sometimes, carrying fluffy\nJimmie Gibson, the baby blue fox from the Kobuk, which was tantalizing\nto a degree. But when she let Jack McMillan put his paws on her\nshoulders, and lay his big head against her cheek, calling him a\n\"perfect lamb\" or a \"poor dear martyr,\" in a tone that betrayed\naffectionate sympathy, Baldy turned away in disgust.\n\nAs a matter of fact these attentions and endearments were exceedingly\nunwise, for they were invariably directed toward the very dogs who were\nmost apt to over-value physical charm and ingratiating tricks of manner.\n\nBut there was one thing more objectionable still that could be laid at\nher door--she was constantly lowering the general tone of the Kennel.\n\nThe stables where the Racers were kept gave shelter, also, to a few\nothers whose merits warranted their sharing in the special care bestowed\nupon the fleet-footed Sweepstakes Winners. The latter all carried\nthemselves with a conscious dignity that befitted their fame and\naspirations; but gradually Baldy noticed that through the Woman there\nwere being introduced a number of ordinary strangers who made use of the\nplace, and were housed and fed, till it began to look like a transient\ndog hotel.\n\nShe brought them because they were tired and hungry, lame, halt or\nblind; or worse still, just because they \"seemed to like her.\" No reason\nwas too trivial, no dog too worthless. Matt shamelessly upheld her,\n\"Scotty\" submitted, while Baldy sulkily glowered at these encumbrances\nwho were more fit for the pound than the Allan and Darling Racing\nStables. For Baldy had but one criterion; that of efficiency as the\nresult of honest endeavor. And it was indeed a trial for a conscientious\nplodder to see the ease with which idle canines possessed themselves of\nthe comforts and privileges that by right belong alone to those whose\nindustry has earned them.\n\nHad Baldy been a French Poodle, with little tufts of hair cut in\ncircles round his ankles, and a kinky lock tied with a splashing bow\nover his eyes, he would probably, with delicate disdain, have thought of\nher as lacking in \"esprit de corps.\" As it was, being but a blunt\nAlaskan, he growled rather sullenly when she came too near, and\nconsidered that she had no more dog-pride than an Eskimo; and Baldy's\ncontempt for her could suggest no more scathing comparison.\n\nThere was no jealousy in his objections, for he now fairly gloried in\nthe sensation that Kid, Irish or McMillan created when they were in the\nlead; and as the two latter at least were dogs that were coldly\nindifferent to him, this was surely a test of his unselfishness.\n\nHe was perfectly willing, also, to welcome \"classy\" dogs, as George and\nDan called them, like Stefansson, Lipton, or dainty Margaret Winston,\nfrom Kentucky. He even understood there were dogs, neither Workers nor\nRacers, who had gained a kind of popular distinction that was recognized\nby both the human and canine population of the City; and while it was\nimpossible for him to comprehend the _reason_, he accepted the _fact_\nphilosophically.\n\nThere was, for instance, Oolik Lomen, who was born on Amundsen's ship\nthe \"Gjoa\" when on the voyage that resulted in the discovery of the\nNorthwest Passage. Possibly on account of his celebrated birthplace, or\nbecause of his unusual appearance, Oolik was haughty to the verge of\ninsolence; and to Baldy he represented the culmination of all the\ncharming but useless graces of the idle rich. He did nothing but lie on\nthe Lomen porch on a soft rug, or wander about with a doll in his mouth,\nmuch as a certain type of woman lolls through life carrying a lap dog.\n\nThen there was the tramp Nomie, the pet of the Miners' Union, and the\nFire Department. This fox terrier was a constant attendant at all\nimportant affairs of the town--social or political--at parades,\nchristenings, weddings, and even funerals. At concerts or at the theatre\nhe walked out upon the stage, and waited quietly near the wings till the\nprogram was finished. He went to church quite regularly, but was\nnon-sectarian, and was just as apt to appear at the Eskimo Mission\nChapel as at St. Mary's when the Bishop preached.\n\nRarely did he fail to be at all Council Meetings, informal receptions,\nand formal balls. At these he was untiring, and would select a couple\nfor each dance and follow them through the mazes of the waltz and\none-step with great dexterity; visiting between times with his many\nacquaintances.\n\nThe knowledge that Nomie assisted at every fire, and at all of the\ndrills of the Life Saving Crew on the beach made Baldy feel that these\nsocial diversions were only an outlet for abundant vitality, since there\nwere not fires and wrecks enough to keep him busy; and a poor little fox\nterrier, no matter _how_ ambitious, is debarred by his size from the\nnoble sport of racing, or the more prosaic business career of\nfreighting.\n\nSo it really seemed, on the whole, that Baldy was exceedingly liberal in\nhis estimate of dogs in general. And it was only his desire for a high\nstandard in his own Kennel that prompted his aversion to those waifs and\nstrays that she collected; who, of no possible use, were neither\nprofessional beauties like Oolik, nor society favorites like Nomie, and\nso really had no claim to any sort of recognition.\n\nNeither did Baldy, because of his new associations and ambitions, gauge\nhis opinions of all dogs by racing tests alone. He still believed\nimplicitly in the dignity of labor; and his early residence amongst\nfreighters had enabled him to recognize the fact that endurance and good\ncommon dog-sense are often of more value, even in a racing team, than\nspeed and mere pride of carriage.\n\nIn the occasional intervals when no feminine presence upset the calm and\nsystem of his surroundings, there were periods when Baldy watched\nintently the habits and characteristics of the other dogs, and tried to\nfit himself to become a candidate for the Racing Team.\n\nIn this he was assisted by the boy, who was just as carefully studying\nAllan's methods with his dogs, and putting them in practice every time\nhe took Baldy out for exercise. One was as eager for improvement as the\nother, and \"Scotty\" and the Woman often remarked the unflagging energy\nboth displayed toward that end.\n\n\"Too bad that Ben's efforts are wasted on a dog that will never be much\nto boast of, at best. He has strength and patience, but that is about\nall. I believe, like George, that he lacks spirit.\"\n\nOf course there had been no dramatic incidents in his life like those\nof Jack McMillan's; he was no paragon like Kid; nor had he manifested\nthe marvelous intelligence of old Dubby. But on the other hand, there\nwas really nothing tangible so far in his career to make her feel that\nhe was incapable of development.\n\n\"You're wrong about Baldy,\" said \"Scotty\" thoughtfully. \"I have been\nwatching him ever since the Juvenile Race; and he has certain latent\nqualities that will make a good general utility dog of him for even a\nracing team. He may not prove a leader, but he's dependable, not apt to\nlose his head and stampede, as do some of the more spirited ones. He'll\ndo his modest part yet, in a big event.\"\n\n\"Well, you'll have to show me,\" exclaimed the Woman, whose speech was\nnow and then tinged unconsciously by her close fellowship with the\nWonder Workers.\n\nEven Dubby's favorable notice was now frequently attracted toward Baldy;\nand the fact that he was aspiring to belong to the Racing Team was\nmitigated to a certain extent in the venerable huskie's sight by a\npuppy-hood spent amongst the working classes. He was not born to an\nexalted position, a natural aristocrat, like Tom, Dick or Harry; and\nwould not, as did they, glory in it ostentatiously. But if it came, he\nwould accept it with a solemn sense of obligation to do his best\nanywhere it pleased his master to place him.\n\nUnlike the Tolman brothers, McMillan, Irish and Rover, he did not curry\nfavor by the happy accident of birth, beauty, or personal magnetism; and\nso Dubby began to bestow upon Baldy, for his modesty and industry, an\napprobation not accorded by him to many of the others in the Kennel. And\nDubby's opinion of a new dog was worth much, for \"Scotty\" Allan himself\nrespected the experience and sagacity that governed it.\n\nPossessed of the colorings and markings of his wolf forbears, as well as\ntheir keen instinct in trail emergencies, Dubby combined with this the\nfaithful, loving nature of the dog branch of the family.\n\nIn his merest infancy he had given promise of unusual ability--a promise\nmore than fulfilled.\n\nWhen hardly more than three months old he had learned the orders \"Gee,\"\n\"Haw,\" \"Mush\" and \"Whoa\" perfectly. And he was beginning to think a\nlittle for himself when the rest of the litter were still undecided\nwhether \"Gee\" meant to turn to the right paw side, or the left paw side;\nand were hardly convinced that \"Mush\" was \"Go on\" and not a terse\ninvitation to breakfast.\n\nHis later accomplishments were many. He could pick up an uncertain trail\nwhen concealed by three feet of soft, freshly fallen snow; he could tell\nif ice was thick enough to carry the weight of a loaded sled, when the\nmost seasoned trailsman was deceived, and he could scent a camp for four\nor five miles with the wind in the right direction. Never but once in\nhis life had he been known to take the wrong route to a given point.\nThen he mistook the faint glimmer of Venus, as she dimly showed above\nthe dark horizon, for the lantern on the ridge-pole of a road house;\nwhich was poetic, but misleading, and proves that even dogs can come to\ngrief through too much star gazing.\n\nHe was always driven \"loose\" on the rare and gala occasions when, at his\nown plainly expressed desire, he was placed again in temporary service.\nWith that liberty he made it his business to see that no dog was\nshirking. A glance at a slack strap was enough to betray the idler; and\nan admonishing nip on the culprit's ear or flank was the cause of a\nreformation that was sudden and abject for a while at least.\n\nThe only punishment that had ever been meted out to Dubby for some\nindiscretion, or an act of insubordination, was to hitch him up with the\nrest of the team. There were no depths of humiliation greater, no shame\nmore poignant, and for days after such an ordeal he would show a\nbrooding melancholy that almost made the Woman weep in sympathy.\n\nNow, pensioned and retired, with a record of over thirty thousand miles\nin harness to his credit, he lived a delightful and exclusive existence\nin his own apartments over the barn.\n\nAs he had taken Baldy into his favor, so too he included Ben in his\nrather limited list of favorites; and the boy never wearied of hearing\nfrom \"Scotty\" and the Woman their many tales of the huskie's remarkable\nachievements.\n\n\"Even if he ain't a Racer,\" was the child's admiring assertion,\n\"everybody in the whole North knows Dub, and what he's done. I hope,\"\nwistfully, \"that some day people'll speak o' Baldy jest like that.\"\n\n\"You can hardly expect that, Ben! Think of the hundreds and hundreds of\ngood dogs that are never known outside of their own kennels. Baldy is\nobedient and willing, but it takes something extraordinary, really\nbrilliant, or dramatic, to give a dog more than a local reputation. Of\ncourse there are a few, but very few, who have won such distinction.\nJohn Johnson's Blue Eyed Kolma was a wonder for his docile disposition\nand staying qualities. You can't match our Kid for all round good work,\nnor Irish for speed. And Jack McMillan--\"\n\n\"I don't believe I'd specify McMillan's claims to fame, or shall we say\nnotoriety,\" observed \"Scotty,\" with a twinkle in his eye. \"Then,\" he\nresumed, \"there were Morte Atkinson's Blue Leaders, that Percy\nBlatchford drove in the second big race. When we met at Last Chance on\nthe way back, Blatchford nearly cried when he told me how those setters\nhad saved his hands from freezing. He had turned them loose to rest and\nrun behind at will, knowing they would catch up at the next stop. In\nsome way he had dropped the fur gloves he wore over his mittens, when he\ntook them off to adjust a sled pack, and did not miss them for some\ntime, until he ran into a fierce blizzard. Of course he could not go\nback for them, and he feared his hands would become useless from the\ncold. He was in a pretty bad fix, when up came the Blue Leaders, almost\nexhausted, but each with a glove in his mouth.\"\n\n\"Oh, that was fine,\" murmured Ben.\n\n\"Give me bird-dog stock every time,\" continued Allan, \"with a native\nstrain for strength and trail instincts. It's a combination that makes\nour Alaskans just about right, to my idea.\"\n\n\"Naturally I feel that our half-breeds are best, too. But I do wish,\"\nregretfully, \"that they could all be the same sort of half-breeds--to\nmake them more uniform as to size and style. With Kid and Spot part\npointer, Irish and Rover part setter, Jack McMillan verging on the\nmastiff, and all the rest of them part something else, don't you think\nit looks the least little bit as if we had picked them up at a remnant\nsale?\"\n\nShe caught sight of \"Scotty's\" face, full of shocked surprise.\n\n\"Don't say it,\" she exclaimed quickly; \"both Ben and I know perfectly\nwell that 'handsome is as handsome does.' I learned it in my copy-book,\nages and ages ago. And it's true that they are the greatest dogs in all\nthe world, but they don't quite look it. Of course the year you won with\nBerger's 'Brutes,' with that awkward, high-shouldered native, Mukluk, in\nthe lead, I learned that looks do not go very far in Arctic racing. But\ncertainly Fink's 'Prides' in their gay trappings of scarlet and gold did\nseem more to suit the r\u00f4le of Winners when Hegness came in victorious\nwith them in the first race.\"\n\n\"At that, the 'Brutes' were the best dogs, and if it had not been for\nour delay of eighteen hours at Brown's Road House, where all of the\nteams had to lay up because of a howling gale, I am not at all sure that\nthe 'Prides' would not have lost out to the 'Brutes' in that race too.\"\n\n\"That must have been a strange night. I know after that every one called\nBrown's 'The House of a Thousand Bow Wows.' How many were there?\"\n\n\"Let me see; there were fifty-four racing dogs, thirty-five freighters,\ntwenty-six belonging to the mail carriers, ten or twelve to casual\nmushers, and I think about the same number to Eskimo trappers. And\nall--men and dogs--in the one room, which, fortunately, was of pretty\ngood size.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" laughed heartily at the remembrance. \"We, who were driving the\nRacing Teams, had put our leaders to bed in the few bunks there were;\nfor we could not afford to take any chances of our leaders scrapping in\nsuch close quarters, and possibly being put out of commission. But an\nOutsider, a government official, I think, who was on his way to Nome as\na passenger with the Mail Team, was pretty sore about it. Said 'it was a\ndeuce of a country where the dogs slept in beds and the men on the\nfloor.'\"\n\n\"How perfectly ridiculous,\" said the Woman indignantly. \"You might know\nhe was not an Alaskan. He was as bad as that squaw who wouldn't give you\nher mukluks.\"\n\n\"What was that, Mr. Allan?\" questioned the boy, eagerly.\n\n\"I'm afraid, Ben, that some of these incidents look a little\nhigh-handed, as though everything was allowable in a race, regardless of\nother people's rights; but they really don't happen often. This time I\ntore one of my water boots on a stump going through the trees by\nCouncil. At a near-by cabin I tried to buy a pair of mukluks a native\nwoman had on, as I saw they were about the size I needed. She refused to\nsell, though I offered her three times their value. There was no time to\nargue, nor persuade, so finally in desperation her Eskimo husband and I\ntook them off her feet, though she kicked vigorously. It saved the day\nfor me, but it seemed a bit ungallant.\"\n\n\"It served her right for not being as good a sport as most of the\nEskimos. And anyway, every one on Seward Peninsula, of any nationality,\nis supposed to know that whatever a driver or his dogs need, in the All\nAlaska Sweepstakes, should be his without a dissenting voice or a\nrebellious foot.\"\n\n\"Moose Jones used to say,\" quoted Ben rather timidly, \"that most\nMalamutes are stubborn. Was the leader you spoke of, Mukluk, stubborn\ntoo, in the race you won with him?\"\n\n\"Yes, he was stubborn, all right. Do you recall,\" turning to the Woman,\n\"the night I made him go 'round one corner for half an hour because he\nrefused to take the order the first time, and I was afraid of that\ntrait in him. It did not take long, however, to show him that I could\nspend just as much time making him obey as he could spend defying me.\nThere's no use in whipping a dog like that. And with all his obstinacy,\nhe was, next to old Dubby, more capable of keeping a trail in a storm\nthan any dog I've ever handled. He had pads[2] of leather, and sinews of\nsteel. He was surely shy on beauty, though.\"\n\n[Footnote 2: Feet.]\n\n\"Of course,\" her voice dropping to almost a whisper, \"I would not admit\nthis anywhere but right here, in the privacy of the Kennel, and I\nwouldn't say it here if the dogs could understand; but when it comes to\nactual good looks, 'Scotty,'\" the Woman confessed, \"we are really not in\nit with Bobby Brown's big, imposing Loping Malamutes, or Captain\nCrimin's cunning little Siberians, with their pointed noses, prick ears,\nand fluffy tails curled up over their backs like plumes.\"\n\n\"Yes, they do make a most attractive team,\" admitted Allan justly; \"and\nthey're mighty good dogs too. But somehow they seem to lack the pride\nand responsiveness that I find in those with bird-dog ancestry. Of\ncourse each man prefers his own type, the one he has deliberately\nchosen; and Fox Ramsay, and John or Charlie Johnson are convinced that\nthe tireless gait of their 'Russian Rats' in racing more than offsets\nthe sudden bursts of great speed of our 'Daddy Long Legs.'\"\n\n[Illustration: A TEAM OF SIBERIANS]\n\nThe Woman shrugged her shoulders. \"Let us hope for the sake of the sport\nthat the matter will not be definitely decided for some time to come.\nIf, as Mark Twain says, 'it is a difference of opinion that makes horse\nracing,' it seems to me it's about the widest possible difference of\nopinion that makes dog racing; and each year's races have made the\ndifference more hopelessly pronounced.\"\n\n\"Well, there'll always be disagreements as to the merits of the various\nracing dogs; but for a good all around intelligent and faithful worker,\nI have never found a dog that could outdo Dubby here,\" and \"Scotty\"\naffectionately caressed the old huskie who had come into the Kennel with\nhis friend Texas Allan, the cat, to find out what was interfering with\nan expected walk.\n\n\"Sometimes Dub and I used to have disputes about a choice of roads, the\nthickness of ice, or other details of traveling; but I will say that he\nalways listened tolerantly to all I had to offer in the way of\nsuggestions, and wagged his tail courteously to show there was no ill\nfeeling, even if he did get his way in the end. And, frankly, he was\ngenerally right.\"\n\nWhich was, of course, only natural; for \"Scotty\" was, after all, only\nhuman, while Dubby had the eyes, ears, and nose of his wolf forbears.\n\nDubby was a licensed character indeed, but Baldy realized, as did the\nothers, that his freedom was a reward of merit.\n\nThat he might not feel that his days of usefulness were over, he had\nbeen given the honorary position of Keeper of the Kennel Meat; and much\nof his life was now spent dozing peacefully before the meat-room door,\nthough he was ever ready to resent a covetous glance from unduly curious\ndogs.\n\nTo be sure, there were besides the dignity and responsibility of his\nhigh office certain perquisites that he thoroughly enjoyed--one of which\nwas the hospitality that was his to dispense.\n\nHe often invited old team-mates, or pitifully hungry puppies into his\nquarters, where he would treat them to dog biscuit, dried fish, or a\ndrink of fresh water; but he never abused his privileges, and it was\nonly the worthy or helpless that appealed successfully to his charity.\n\nHis ample leisure now permitted also the cultivation of certain refined\ntastes which had been dormant in his busy youth. He taught Fritz, the\nhouse dog, whose only method of expression heretofore had been an\near-piercing bark, to howl in a clear, high tenor, with wonderfully\nsustained notes; so that together they would sit on the stable runway\nand wail duets happily for hours at a time.\n\nFor his many virtues and great ability, as well as for these lighter\naccomplishments, Baldy conceived an admiration for Dubby that would have\nbeen boundless but for one weakness that was absolutely\nincomprehensible--the huskie's devotion to the cat, Texas.\n\nIt was a strange friendship in a place where a cat's right to live at\nall is contested every hour of the day, and where nine times nine lives\nwould not cover a span of more than a few months at the most, as a rule.\nIt had begun when Texas was little more than a kitten, and had wandered\naway one day from the warm kitchen fire, out into the shed, and from\nthere into the street.\n\nDelighted with her unaccustomed freedom, she chased a bit of whirling,\neddying paper across a strip of snow, into the angle of a cabin; then\nturning, gazed into the face of a big, ferocious dog who was already\nlicking his chops suggestively.\n\nSince the prey was safely cornered, he generously decided to share the\nanticipated excitement with some boon companions. And so, giving three\nshort, sharp cries and repeating the call several times, he was joined\nby two other malamutes who, eager for the fun of killing a cat, drew in\nclose beside him.\n\nIt had all happened in a moment; but in that moment Dubby, out for\nexercise, came upon the scene. He was no lover of cats, be it\nunderstood; and he had often been guilty of making short work of one if\nit chanced to cross his path when he was in quest of adventure. But this\nwas the Allan cat. He had often seen the girls carry it about in their\narms; and while it seemed a strange perversion to caress a kitten when\nthere were puppies about, or even babies, still the peculiarities of\nyour Master's Family must be respected. Even, if necessary, to the\nextreme limit of defending their pet cats.\n\nThen, too, there was something that had appealed to him in the plucky\nstand of the terrified little creature. Eyes dilated with fear, every\nhair on end, sputtering and spitting, she had unsheathed her tiny claws\nand was prepared to make a brave fight for her life. The chances were\nhopelessly against her--the dogs did not intend to let her run--and\nDubby felt that it was butchery, not sport.\n\nAlso, if Texas was hurt, the girls would be sad, and cry, and not play\nfor a long time. He knew, because that happened when their terrier Tige\nwas run over. And so, with one bound, he jumped upon the instigator of\nthe trouble, and caught him by the shoulder with his still strong, sharp\nteeth. The other dogs wheeled in surprise; and in an instant there was a\nbattle as bloody as it was short and decisive. Dubby was a marvelous\ntactician--the others only novices, and in a very brief period there\nwere three well-minced malamutes who limped disconsolately in different\ndirections; leaving a conquering hero on the field, with the spoils of\nwar--a ruffled gray kitten in a shivering state of uncertainty as to\nher ultimate fate, but too weak to make any further defense.\n\nDubby picked her up in his mouth, and carried her back to the house,\nwhere he carefully deposited her inside the shed, and waited until some\none answered his scratches on the door.\n\nIt marked the beginning of a companionship that lasted for years. Every\nfine afternoon Dubby would take Texas out for a stroll; and even after\nshe was a huge seventeen pound cat, well able to hold her own, it was a\nreckless dog indeed that showed any hostility toward Texas when Dub was\nher body-guard.\n\nOne readily comprehends that he might graciously accept her gratitude;\nbut, as the French Poodle's People say, \"Noblesse Oblige,\" and it\ncertainly seemed unnecessary that a dog of his achievement should flaunt\nhis affection for a mere cat in the eyes of the whole world.\n\nWhile this caused strong disapproval in all canine circles, strangely\nenough it apparently made no difference in his standing with men and\nwomen. Mr. Fink, in his exalted position as President of the Nome Kennel\nClub, and one of the most brilliant lawyers in Alaska besides, always\nraised his hat to Dubby when they met, as a greeting from one keen mind\nto another; for the man had watched the skill of the dog on the trail,\nand knew that it was unsurpassed in the whole North. \"Scotty\" Allan\nnever failed to give every evidence of his sincere regard, and the Woman\nhad even perpetuated the undesirable association by having Dubby's\npicture taken with Texas when they were out on one of their daily\npromenades.\n\nAnd so, admired by men and feared by dogs, the faithful huskie was\nsingularly exempt from the tragedies of a neglected, forlorn old age.\n\nBen regarded Dubby with admiring interest; and pondering for a while on\nall that he had heard said, finally, \"Do you think, Mr. Allan, you'll\never find any one dog that kin race like Kid and be as smart on the\ntrail as Dub?\" In his eagerness he did not wait for the reply. \"Don't\nyou s'pose if a dog's really good t' begin with, an' some one that loves\nhim lots learns him all the things a' racin' dog's got t' know, that\nhe'd turn out so wonderful that everybody in Alaska 'ud know how great\nhe was--mebbe everybody in the world?\"\n\nThe Woman smiled. \"Have you any one in mind, Ben?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, no, ma'am; I was only thinkin',\" he stammered as he\nearnestly listened for \"Scotty's\" answer.\n\n\"I would not be surprised if such a thing _could_ happen, Sonny. You\nknow pretty nearly all good things are possible to good dogs--and good\nboys.\"\n\nAnd deep in his heart the boy vowed that he and Baldy would begin the\nvery next day to show what can be accomplished by those who, loving\nmuch, serve faithfully. [Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTo Visit Those in Affliction\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTO VISIT THOSE IN AFFLICTION\n\n\n\"We got t' change these rules someway, George. There ain't a thing in\n'em 'bout visitin' the sick an' dyin'. There's somethin' 'bout not usin'\nsick dogs, I remember, but that's all there is 'bout sickness; and that\nwon't hardly do.\"\n\nGeorge considered the matter carefully as he read over the \"Rules and\nRegerlations of the Anshent and Honroble Order of Bow-Wow Wonder\nWorkers\" in his hand. They were rather blotted, and decidedly grimy; but\nit was perfectly clear, as Dan had announced, there was nothing in them\nthat suggested the duty of ministering to those in distress.\n\nThe Order had met that afternoon to decide upon the proper thing to be\ndone in the case of Ben Edwards, who had been ill for two days with a\nsevere cold, and absent from school.\n\nWith a sincere desire to emulate other Orders more Ancient than theirs,\nif not more Honorable, they felt that a fraternal call upon their\nsuffering member was necessary.\n\n\"We ought t' take him somethin' to eat an' read,\" remarked George; \"like\nDad always does when he goes t' the Hospital t' see Masons, or Elks, or\nany of 'em that's broke their legs or arms in shafts, or fallin' off\ndredges an' things.\"\n\n\"It's all right t' take him eatables; but don't let's take him any stuff\nto read. It might make him worse. It's bad enough bein' sick, without\nhavin' some readin' shoved onto you, too.\"\n\nDan, who was the Treasurer of the Wonder Workers, as well as holding\nother important offices, brought forth a can from under the hay in the\ncorner of Spot's stall.\n\n\"We better see how much money we got before we talk 'bout what we'll\ntake him.\"\n\n\"If there's enough, Dan, don't you think an ice-cream cone 'ud be fine;\nor do you think he'd ruther have some peanuts an' pop-corn?\"\n\n\"Peanuts an' pop-corn's all right, or maybe some candy an' gum. You see\nif he can't eat the ice-cream it 'ud melt right away an' wouldn't be any\ngood t' anybody. But the other stuff 'ud last, an' if he's too bad t'\neat it, he could always give it to his mother, or some of his friends.\"\n\nThey carefully counted the thirty-five cents in the Treasury, and were\ndeep in a financial debate when the Woman's voice broke in upon their\nimportant discussion.\n\n\"Hello, boys, where are you?\"\n\n\"We never seem to be able to get any place that some one don't butt in\non us,\" groaned Dan. \"I'll bet if we went out on an ice hummock on\nBering Sea that some Eskimo tom-cod fisher 'ud show up beside us t' fish\nthrough a hole in the ice. What do you s'pose she wants now?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Dan. But let's tell her about Ben, and maybe she'll want\nt' take him the things t' eat, an' we can keep the thirty-five cents\ntill he's well an' can help spend it some way he'd like better. P'raps\non somethin' for the dogs.\"\n\n\"I was just coming to ask for him,\" she said when informed of Ben's\nillness. \"I have missed him the last day or so, and wondered what was\nthe matter.\"\n\nThen, \"Let's give him a party,\" she exclaimed quickly. \"A cold isn't\nserious, and a party would cheer him up. Besides, I have been wanting to\nsee Mrs. Edwards for a long time, and this is a good chance for a chat\nabout the boy. And we'll invite Baldy too.\" She took some money out of\nher purse, and handed it to George. \"You can both run downtown and get\nwhatever boys like, and I'll go for a cake I have at home, and meet you\nhere in fifteen minutes.\"\n\nWhen they at last started for the Edwards house the boys felt that their\nmodest mission of mercy had developed into quite a festive occasion.\nTheir purchases ranged from dill pickles through ginger snaps to\nchocolate creams; while the Woman carried jellies and preserves and all\nsorts of dainties that inspired Dan with a sudden belief, confided to\nGeorge, that invalidism, unmixed with literature, was not so much to be\ndreaded as he had always fancied.\n\n\"Depends on whether you get castor-oil or cake,\" was the pessimistic\nreply of one who had gone through bitter experiences along those lines.\n\"This just shows what belongin' t' orders does for you, Dan. If Ben\nwasn't a member o' the Bow Wows, I'll bet he could 'a' died an' hardly\nany one would 'a' known it but his mother. An' now he's havin' a party\ngive to him 'cause our Society kinda hinted to her what we was plannin'\nwhen she showed up.\" And for once an approving glance was cast toward\nthe Woman.\n\n\"When I'm old enough,\" decided Dan, \"I'm goin' t' belong t' everything.\nYou can wear feathers an' gold braid in processions, an' have stuff like\nthis when you're sick, an' bully funerals with brass bands when you're\ndead.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" agreed George heartily.\n\nAs they turned the corner into Second Avenue, a short distance from the\nEdwards cabin, an adventure befell them which was fully covered by Rule\nSeven of the \"Rules and Regerlations\" of their Order: \"To help thoes in\nTrubble.\" It came at the very end, just next the important one which\nforbade any hint of sharp practice in dog trading; and had been added\nafter they had listened to the Woman's story about King Arthur and his\nKnights.\n\n\"Just 'cause it's a dog man's order we needn't stop tryin' t' do things\nfor people,\" George had announced when Rule Seven was being considered.\nAnd the others had felt, too, that their association with good dogs\nshould make them more tolerant of human weakness and imperfection.\n\nDown the street came a tiny Mother with a cherished doll-baby in its\ngo-cart, out for an airing; and down the street, too, came Oolik Lomen,\nwho had wandered away from his rug on the porch in search of diversion.\nHe had mislaid his rubber doll, there was nothing to play with, and he\nwas decidedly bored; when his covetous eyes fell upon the golden-haired\ninfant, whose waxen beauty was most tempting.\n\nThe piratical instinct that was, perhaps, an inheritance, took\npossession of him completely; and with a rush he overturned the\ncarriage, grabbing its occupant, and dashing away full speed toward the\nLomen home.\n\nThe shocked parent, seeing her child snatched from her loving care so\nruthlessly, broke into cries of distress. And the Wonder Workers, who\nwere so solemnly pledged \"To help thoes in Trubble,\" unceremoniously\nbestowed their various bundles upon the Woman, and started in pursuit.\n\nBaldy, who had been quietly following, also joined in the chase--for he\nhad watched the entire proceeding with disapproving eyes, and was only\nwaiting for a little encouragement to help administer the punishment\nthat Oolik so richly merited.\n\nBut that proud descendant of Viking Dogs, once behind his own fence,\nostentatiously dragged the stolen one by a leg into a corner; and,\nseated in front of his victim, growled defiance in the very faces of the\nbrave Knights who were attempting the rescue.\n\n\"George, you take the doll when I sic Baldy onto Oolik, and give it to\nthe kid, an' come back quick. Believe me, it's goin' t' be a scrap worth\nseem' when those two dogs really get woke up to' it. I'll bet Baldy is\npretty keen in a row if he thinks he's right; an' even if Oolik is too\ngood lookin', you know Amundsen said his mother was the best dog he ever\nhad, an' that's goin' some for a man like him.\"\n\nBefore the plans for the combat could be completed, however, Helen\nLomen came out, overcome with regret for the tragedy, to lead Oolik into\nthe house in disgrace. She was anxious to make restitution for any\ndamage; but a close examination revealed the fact that there was no\nwound that a bit of glue would not easily cure, and the only real hurt\nwas that given to the feelings of insulted motherhood.\n\nThe Woman was visibly relieved at the turn affairs had taken; for she\nhad a purely feminine dread of dog fights, and had frequently stopped\nsome that would have been of most thrilling interest in deciding certain\nimportant questions.\n\nIn an undertone the boys spoke of the vagaries of the gentler sex, and\nfrankly admitted \"they were sure hard t' understand,\" while the Woman\ntried unsuccessfully to make Baldy carry a small package.\n\n\"Do you think she'll ever learn,\" asked George rather hopelessly, \"that\na sled dog's got no use for little stunts like that? His mind's got t'\nbe on bigger things.\"\n\n\"Here we are,\" called Dan, as they stopped before a tiny cabin almost\nsnowed in, with a deep cut leading up to the front door.\n\nA thin, pale-faced woman, with a pleasant manner, answered the knock.\n\n\"Mrs. Edwards, we've come to surprise Ben. May we see him?\"\n\nBen's mother ushered them all, Baldy included, into a room plainly\nfurnished, but neat and home-like.\n\n\"This must be Ben's day for surprises, for this morning Mr. Jones\narrived from St. Michael.\"\n\n\"Here's Moose, that I've bin tellin' you about so much,\" and Ben, from a\ncouch, nodded happily toward the large man who rose from a chair beside\nthe boy, and shook hands cordially with them all.\n\n\"Yes, I come over by dog team. I leased my ground up at Marshall, an'\nthought I'd drop into Nome t' see if my friend Ben here was still aimin'\nt' be a lawyer, an' the very first thing I hear is that he's gone inter\ndog racin' with you an' 'Scotty' Allan. That is, that Baldy's in the\nracin' stable, which is pretty near the same thing.\"\n\n\"Oh, I haven't give up the idea of bein' a lawyer, Moose. She,\" nodding\ntoward the Woman, \"talks to me about it all the time; and 'Scotty's'\ngoin' t' speak t' Mr. Fink the very next time they meet. 'Scotty' says\nhe thinks Mr. Fink'll listen, 'cause he was so interested in Baldy after\nthe boys' race, an' asked all about him. He said,\" in a tone in which\ntriumph was plainly noticeable, \"that he didn't know _when_ he'd seen a\ndog with legs an' a chest like Baldy.\"\n\n\"I know a good dog is about the best introduction you can have to Mr.\nFink; but if for any reason that fails, I'll have a talk with Mr. Daly\nand tell him that you want to be another Lincoln, as nearly as possible,\nand that will appeal to him,\" confidently remarked the Woman.\n\n\"You got the right system in this here case,\" chuckled Moose Jones. \"Ef\nyou was t' tell one o' them lawyers that you jest couldn't git the other\none interested in the boy, it's a dead cinch he'd git inter one office\nor t'other; an' it don't make much difference which. They're both mighty\nsmart men, even ef they don't go at things the same way. Well, anyway,\nBen, I'm glad I kin depend on retainin' you when my claims begin t' show\nup rich, as I kinda think some of 'em's bound t' do, one place or\nanother. On my way back t' Nome, I stopped at them new diggin's at Dime\nCreek, an' staked some ground; an' it's a likely lookin' country, I kin\ntell you.\"\n\nFrom the first instant he had heard the sound of the man's voice, Baldy\nhad remained motionless, but intent, trying to recall their past\nassociation; then with a bark he rushed up to Moose Jones, showing every\npossible sign of recognition and joy.\n\n\"Well, well,\" exclaimed Moose, \"ef this ain't Baldy o' Golconda! Why, I\ndidn't know him right away, he's so sorta perky an' high-toned; all\nalong of gettin' in with a speedy bunch, I expect,\" and the man stroked\nthe dog affectionately.\n\n\"Isn't he fine?\" cried Ben eagerly. \"I just wish you could 'a' seen him\nthe day o' the race; but George'll tell you all about it--how he\nwouldn't let Spot an' Queen bolt, an' how willin' he was an' all.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed, the boys must tell you all about that famous event, Mr.\nJones, while I talk to Mrs. Edwards about something else.\"\n\nBefore going into the details of the race, which never palled upon Ben,\nthey described with much gusto the defeat of Oolik Lomen in the first\nGreat Adventure the Wonder Workers had undertaken; and Ben bitterly\nregretted that he could not also have been one of the brave knights who\nhad so valorously risen in defense of the weak and distressed against\nthe strong and unprincipled.\n\nBut Dan consoled him somewhat by the information that the incident had\nbeen almost spoiled by interference; and that the next time they\nperformed deeds of chivalry he hoped it would be when no female was\nabout, unless, indeed, it might be a victim to be rescued from a\nterrible plight.\n\nIn the brief chat the Woman had with Mrs. Edwards she learned a little\nof the hardships that had fallen to the lot of the boy and his mother,\nand realized in spite of their courage and reticence that they had\nendured a hard struggle for almost a mere existence.\n\n\"Don't you think it would be easier for you outside, where there are not\nso many physical discomforts to be considered?\"\n\n\"Perhaps. But my husband left a little mining ground that may, in time,\nprove worth while if developed; and I have remained where I could look\nafter it, and see that the assessment work was properly done. As it is,\na man named Barclay--Black Mart Barclay, they call him--jumped the claim\nnext to his, and if it had not been for Mr. Jones I should have lost it.\nHe loaned me the money to take the matter into the courts, where I won\nout.\"\n\n\"And the boy?\"\n\n\"He is my one thought,\" responded Mrs. Edwards. \"As a young child he was\nrather delicate, and we could not send him to school because of the\ndistance. Since then his association with the men at Golconda has done\nmuch to offset what I have tried to do for him. Before my marriage I\ntaught school in a village in New Hampshire, though you would hardly\nsuspect it to hear Ben speak. I wanted to get a position in the school\nhere; but nowadays there is so much special training required that I\nfound I was not fitted for the work; and I have just had to take what I\ncould get from time to time. At any rate,\" with a cheerful smile, \"we\nare still alive and have kept our property.\"\n\n\"It was brave,\" murmured the Woman, whose eyes were misty; \"very brave.\"\n\n\"Now that Ben is going to school regularly,\" the other continued, \"he\nwill, I think, soon lose this roughness of speech; and you can see that\nhe is anxious to learn, and is ambitious.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed; I have found him really unusual.\"\n\n\"Mr. Jones told us this morning that if his mining ventures turn out\nwell, and they certainly look as if they might, that he will send Ben to\ncollege. He was my husband's partner at one time, and has always taken a\ngreat interest in the boy.\"\n\n\"I am so glad,\" was the response. \"I have felt all along that some way\nshould be found to make such a thing possible. The child deserves it.\nSome day soon, if you will let me come again, we will make some\nwonderful plans for his future. But I came to-day to ask you if you will\nlet Ben go on a trip to the Hot Springs with us next week? I am sure it\nwould do him a lot of good to be in the open air, and perhaps he would\nenjoy the outing.\"\n\n\"I should be glad to have him go; as to his enjoyment--just see what he\nsays.\"\n\nBen listened breathlessly while the Woman told of the prospective\nouting. \"I am to go with 'Scotty' and nine or ten of the racing dogs,\nand Pete Bernard, with twelve big huskies, is to take my husband. As\nPete will have a sled load of freight for Shelton and the Springs, we\nthought you had better go with 'Scotty' and me; that is, of course, if\nyou would like to make the trip. I believe that 'Scotty' intends driving\nBaldy, if that is any inducement.\"\n\nBen could hardly reply for excitement and happiness.\n\n\"Well then,\" and the Woman rose, \"it is quite decided that you are to\ngo. I dare say George and Dan--and Baldy--will want to remain a while.\nWe have talked so much and so fast that I had really forgotten the\n'party' we came to give you, and it is time for me to leave if I keep\nanother engagement. If you are able to get out to-morrow, Ben, bring\nyour mother and Mr. Jones over to the Kennel, and we will introduce them\nto some of our distinguished dog friends.\"\n\nMrs. Edwards and Moose Jones followed her to the door. The former, with\na warm hand-clasp, faltered a few words of thanks; and Moose, with some\nembarrassment, said in an undertone, \"I'm much obliged, ma'am, fer what\nyou and 'Scotty''s done fer the kid an' the dog. Ben used t' come t' my\ncabin when I was kinda lonely an' discouraged at Golconda; an' havin'\nhim 'round learnt me that you got t' have some one that you love, t'\nwork fer, if you want t' git the best out o' things an' people. Now Mrs.\nEdwards says I kin give Ben his eddication, which'll pay back somethin'\no' what his father done fer me once when I was considerable down on my\nluck. And,\" with enthusiasm, \"believe me, you kin bet it'll be some\neddication, ef I have my way, an' them claims pan out the way they look\nnow.\"\n\nSo potent a cure was the delight of the coming excursion that Ben was\nover not only the next day with Moose Jones, but every day after, until\nthe time for the departure arrived; for there were many interesting\nmatters to be settled. The most absorbing was, naturally, the selection\nof dogs for the journey; and there were long discussions by all\nconcerned before the team was finally chosen.\n\nThe Woman's suggestions were, as usual, well meant; but were almost\ninvariably influenced by personal preferences rather than sound\njudgment. And \"Scotty\" had to firmly repress her desire to thrust the\ngreatness of a Trail Career upon some of those for whom he had other\nachievements in mind.\n\n[Illustration: \"SHE HAD BEEN A MEMBER OF ONE OF\nTHE MAIL TEAMS\"\n\nEric Johnson, U. S. Mail Carrier on the Nome-Unalakleet Route]\n\n\"I do wish you would take Mego,\" she urged. \"The dear old thing simply\nloves sled work, and you never give her anything to do nowadays but\nbring up families.\"\n\n\"And why not?\" demanded \"Scotty.\" \"There is not another dog-mother in\nall Nome who can so intelligently care for a family.\" Which was true;\nfor added to her natural fondness for those dependent upon her, she had\nwide experience in the ways of dogs and people, and was thoroughly\nfamiliar with the dangers that beset the path of puppy-hood.\n\nWhen young she had been a member of one of the Mail Teams and had worked\nhard for her living. The run of over two hundred and thirty miles\nbetween Nome and Unalakleet was covered many times during the winter;\nand the Mail Carrier, who has the chance to observe carefully the\nindividual behavior of the dogs he uses, was much attracted to Mego. Her\npatient industry was a happy contrast to the actions of some of the\nothers, who were unruly and quarrelsome, or disinclined to do their\nshare of the necessary labor; and it was with such a high\nrecommendation that \"Scotty\" had bought her.\n\n\"If she only had to care for her own puppies it would not be so bad,\"\nthe Woman complained; \"but every once in a while some light-minded\ngad-about roams around at will, or runs away, and leaves her offspring\nfor Mego to raise. Why, sometimes you would think she was the matron of\na Puppies' Day Home.\"\n\nTo her credit it may be said that whether the puppies were hers or\nanother's, Mego was untiring in her gentle supervision of their minds\nand manners. She taught them to be respectful and wag their tails\nprettily when addressed; not to jump and place muddy paws on those who\ncame to see them, and not to wander away alone, nor associate with\nstrangers. And the task was often difficult, for there were many\nalluring temptations and many bad examples.\n\n\"But she positively enjoys it,\" insisted \"Scotty.\" \"When her own little\nones outgrow her care, she is always watching for a chance to annex at\nleast one member of any new litter in her neighborhood. Only last week\nshe heard the faint squeaks and squeals of Nellie Silk's malamute pups,\nand I caught her tunneling under the manger to try to get to them.\nMego's kidnapping is the one scandal in the Kennel.\"\n\n\"I suppose they were siren calls, not to be resisted. And anyway, that\nis the only blot on her otherwise spotless character. She possibly does\nit for the excitement; and if you will let her go in the Hot Springs\nteam she will have something else to think about. If you don't give her\na new interest,\" was the sinister and gloomy prophecy, \"stealing puppies\nwill very likely become an obsession with her.\"\n\nBut Allan was not to be persuaded. \"She gets all of the exercise and\npleasure that she needs here about the place. If she went away only\nthink of the things that might happen to her youngest family. You know\nhow careless Birdie is with them.\"\n\n\"That's so,\" with a sigh. \"I had quite forgotten Birdie,\" and she\nrecalled with regret the habit of that half grown stag-hound of dropping\nbits of food into the corral, between the wires, to make friends of the\nlittle ones; and then after working at the fastening of the gate till it\ncould be opened, enticing them out for a frolic.\n\nMego knew, as well as did the Woman and \"Scotty,\" that Birdie meant no\nharm. On the contrary, she had excellent qualities, and deserved much\ncredit for the valuable assistance she rendered as a self-constituted\nSecret Service Agent, and an ardent Advocate of Universal Peace.\n\nWhen there was a quarrel in the Nursery, and the puppies became violent,\nshe gently separated them and gave the defeated one a cherished if\nsomewhat ancient bone that she had buried for such occasions; occasions\nwhen material consolation is needed to forget material ills.\n\nIn case of serious trouble she would rush for help, whining anxiously,\nand frequently her prompt action in bringing Matt prevented fatal\nterminations to neighborhood feuds, race riots, or affairs of honor\nbetween dogs with irreconcilable differences of opinion on important\nsubjects.\n\nBut when Birdie was not doing detective work, or holding Peace\nConferences, she was lonely and craved the companionship of the frisky\npups. And while Mego was certain that her character was above reproach,\nas well as her motives, she realized also that the stag-hound was\nheedless. And the wise mother had always in mind the perils that lurk\nin the hoofs of horses, the wheels of wagons, and the hovering\nPound-man; and never relaxed her vigilance in guarding her family\nagainst such dangers.\n\n\"Well then, leaving out Mego, what dogs shall you use besides Kid, Tom,\nDick, Harry, Spot, and McMillan? I told Ben that you would take Baldy.\"\n\n\"Yes, Baldy, and probably Rex. I have been considering Fisher and Wolf,\ntoo. Fisher has been rather indolent and indifferent, and I have never\ngiven Wolf a good run since I bought him of that native boy, Illayuk.\"\n\n\"Why not Jemima? You have never given her a really good run either, and\nshe is no more inexperienced for the trip than is Wolf. As a matter of\nfact, I have been training her quite a bit myself lately, and I find\nthat she is enthusiastic and good-tempered.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" repressed a smile with difficulty. \"Of course if you've been\ntraining her that's different.\"\n\nHe had seen her several times trying to make Jemima jump over a stick,\nbeg for a bone, and stand on her hind legs--quite useless\naccomplishments, as George and Dan had agreed, for a sled dog. And he\nhad also heard her words of advice to the progressive little dog, who\ndid indeed seem to be anxious to create a place for herself amongst the\nbest in the Kennel.\n\n\"Jemima,\" the Woman would warn her solemnly, \"there are lots of things\nthe Females of the Species have to learn early, if they would avoid\ntrouble in this world. The very first of all is to let yourself be well\ngroomed, make the most of the gay pompoms on your harness, and cultivate\ntact above all things. Never make a public nuisance of yourself. Be\nsteadfast, but not militant; and do not snarl and snap, tear children's\nclothing, nor upset the puppies' food dish, even though you are\ndissatisfied with existing conditions. But instead, never forget there\nare wonderful opportunities even in a dog's life, and be ever ready and\nwaiting to use them when they come. Now shake hands.\"\n\nAs a concession to the Woman's fondness for Jemima, rather than to her\ntraining, \"Scotty\" decided to let her go with them; and to her great\ndelight, and to Baldy's unbarkable dismay, for Baldy had but little\nregard for ambitious females, she was placed in the wheel with him.\n\nAnd so, with Kid in the lead, Baldy and Jemima in the wheel, Tom, Dick,\nHarry and the others arranged to the best advantage; with the Woman\ncovered to the eyes in furs, and surrounded by bags, rugs, and carriage\nheaters, and Ben comfortably tucked away in the midst; and with \"Scotty\"\nAllan at the handle-bars, they were finally ready for the start to the\nSprings.\n\nMrs. Edwards and Moose Jones had joined the Allan girls, George, Dan and\nMatt at the Kennel, to wish the travelers a pleasant journey; and as he\nwaved a last farewell to them before the team dropped over the brow of\nthe hill, Ben observed gaily, \"Well, I guess Ben Hur and all o' them old\nchariot racers didn't have nothing much on Alaska racin' dog teams when\nit comes t' style an' speed an' excitement.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nThe Dawn of a To-morrow\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW\n\n\nOnce out of the streets where there is danger of upsetting the unwary or\nabsent-minded pedestrian, the Allan and Darling Team headed down the\ntrail with real pleasure in the prospect of a long run.\n\nThey almost seemed to feel that this jaunt might be in the nature of a\n\"try-out\" for racing material; or at the very least it might offer\nsomething worth while in the way of adventure.\n\nAs a matter of fact it did, in the end, prove an eventful trip.\nParticularly for Baldy, who gained recognition in an unexpected manner;\nfor the Woman, whose experiences nearly quenched her ardor for\nexploration; and for Jemima, who learned that masculine human nature\nrespects feminine ambition up to a certain point only, and then\nconsiders it a form of mania to be restrained.\n\nJust behind was Pete Bernard, a sturdy French Canadian, trying to hold\nhis uncontrollable, half-wild huskies, who were jumping and making\nsudden lunges toward any stranger--man or dog--that wandered near; and\nespecially toward the Yellow Peril, who was a free lance in the\nexpedition, and as such was particularly irritating to those in harness.\nThey were a perfect contrast to \"Scotty's\" dogs, who had been taught to\nstep into place, each as his name was called, standing quietly until all\nwere in position, and the traces were snapped to the tow-line; and then,\nas the signal was given, to dart ahead with the ease and precision of\nmachinery started by electricity. Pete's sled was piled high with\nfreight and luggage, and astride of this was the Big Man, also in furs.\n\nIt was a cloudless day in January--a marvelous combination of white and\nblue. Snowy plains rose almost imperceptibly into softly curved hills,\nand ended in rugged mountains that were outlined in sharp, silvery\npeaks against the dazzling sky.\n\nThe air was crisp and keen, the jingle of the sled-bells merry, and\nBaldy even forgot, in the very joy of living, and in the nearness of\nBen, that Jemima was his team-mate.\n\n[Illustration: THE AIR WAS CRISP AND\nKEEN]\n\nThey could faintly hear Pete's voice giving strange directions to his\ndogs; for Pete was Captain of a coasting schooner in summer, and\nfreighted with a dog team in winter, and used the same terms in both\noccupations. He steered his ship \"Gee\" and \"Haw,\" admonished his dogs\n\"not to get tangled up in their riggin',\" and cautioned them against\n\"runnin' afoul of other craft.\" Of course no well raised dog could be\nexpected to know that his harness was \"riggin',\" nor that a sled could\npossibly come under the head of \"craft \"; and he would be quite at a\nloss to grasp Pete's meaning generally. But as Pete's team never obeyed\nanyway, except by the exercise of sheer bodily force, it made but small\ndifference how he spoke to them.\n\nOn they came, \"passenger\" and \"cargo\" safely aboard, some distance\nbehind the Racers, who passed before long the famous Paystreak Diggings,\nwhich had yielded their many millions, and were soon beyond the groups\nof miners' cabins on the Third Beach Line.\n\nIt was a very different Baldy--this Baldy of Nome--from the one who had\nso often in the days gone by traveled the Golconda Trail with his\nfriend, the boy. The days when he was hungry and foot-sore and\nheart-sick, and now--Baldy straightened up proudly, and nearly pulled\nJemima off her feet in his desire to render good service for favors\nreceived. While Ben's eyes sparkled as he glanced at the dog in his\nresponsible position of right wheeler in the Allan and Darling Team of\nRacers.\n\nThere the way led up a gentle slope, then down to the bed of Nome River,\nwhere they kept on the ice for several miles. It was here that Jemima's\nunfitness for work with experts began to manifest itself; as well as the\nunusual tenacity of purpose that seemed either perseverance or\nperversity--depending upon whether you looked at the matter from Baldy's\nstandpoint or from hers.\n\n\"Scotty\" watched with some amusement her efforts to keep up with the\nothers on the slippery ice, and when he thought she was becoming tired\nhe stopped her, and let her run free. When she realized that she was\nout of the team her amazement and chagrin were plainly manifest. She sat\ndown in the snow while she figured out a plan of campaign for the\nrestoration of her rights; and then was off immediately in pursuit.\n\"Scotty\" had brought Fisher back into the wheel with Baldy; and Jemima,\nwithout pausing, jumped over Fisher's back between him and Baldy, to the\ngrowling disgust of the latter. Of course all three became \"tangled in\nthe riggin',\" and the sled slipped up and over them.\n\nThe Woman, thinking the dogs were hurt, gave a frightened scream, Ben\nwas nearly thrown out by the sudden jolt, and \"Scotty \"--yes, \"Scotty\"\nsaid something short and forceful, which was most rare; though swearing\nmuch or little seems almost as invariable a part of dog mushing as it is\nof mule driving. Jemima was lifted out, the tow-line straightened, and\nanother start was made; but after trotting along steadily for a time she\ngave a second sudden leap, and was between the two dogs just in front of\nthe wheelers. Once more things were badly mixed, and the untangling\nprocess had to be repeated. \"Scotty\" was annoyed, but interested; for\nthe usual rebukes had no effect on Jemima who was still agreeably but\nfirmly bent upon being an active member of the team.\n\nAgain and again she tried the same move till she had been ousted from\nevery position she had endeavored to fill. And then, more in sorrow than\nin anger, she abandoned the unsuccessful tactics, stepped up beside Kid,\nand, keeping pace with him, ran at the head of the team until they drew\nup before the door of the Nugget Road House, where they were to spend\nthe night. Jemima believed in preserving appearances.\n\nWhen they were settled, the Woman with \"Scotty\" and Ben went into the\nbarn to see the dogs fed, and said if Jemima showed any inclination,\nbecause of her frustrated plans, to destroy Road House property, or\nrefuse food, her name should be changed to Emmeline. But Jemima, at\nleast to her own satisfaction, had demonstrated her ability, as well as\nher unswerving determination, so she ate dried salmon and corn meal\nporridge with zest, and slept soundly, content to leave the rest to\nAllan's sense of justice. Baldy looked distrustfully at the sleeping\nJemima, and thought approvingly of the absent Mego--for Baldy was\nsomewhat primitive in his ideas of the hitherto gentle sex.\n\nShortly afterward the other team came--and then followed the excitement\nand confusion that was the inevitable accompaniment of the arrival of\nPete Bernard and his howling huskies.\n\nWhat an untrained lot they were--fierce and unapproachable--for no one\never handled them but Pete, and he had no time to give to their higher\neducation. If they had the strength to pull, he would see that they did\nit; he never used a dog physically unfit, and was perfectly willing to\ngo through with them any of the severe hardships they were forced to\nendure. Did he not, without hesitation, drive them mercilessly through\nblack night and raging blizzard to bring a freezing stranger to the\nhospital--a man whose one chance lay in skilled care?\n\nIt was no great thing in Pete's sight--a simple episode of the North.\nThe man was in dire need, he himself was strong, and his dogs would go\nthrough anything with Pete \"at the steerin' gear\"--and so a life was\nsaved.\n\nWhen the Bernard team was also stabled, Baldy was overcome with that\ndelicious drowsiness that follows a busy day in the open. From the house\ncame those strange noises that people seem to so much enjoy--else why do\nthey remain within reach of them instead of running far away, as did\nBaldy at first? But he, like the rest of the Allan and Darling family,\nhad eventually become used to the phonograph; and their perfect\nself-control now enabled them to lie quietly through the \"Sextette from\nLucia\" or the latest rag time at least with composure, if not with\npleasure.\n\nNot so, however, Pete's uncultured brutes; such strains were melancholy\nand painful to them in the extreme; and they did not hesitate to let it\nbe known. One by one they began to howl, till all twelve were wailing\ndolefully and continuously. The Nugget dogs joined them, and Baldy\nnoticed with stern condemnation that Fisher and Wolf, who had not yet\nacquired the repose of manner that comes of rigid discipline, were also\nguilty of this breach of Road House decorum. Allan and Pete rushed out\nto quell the disturbance, but the Big Man said not to interfere; that\nmany a dollar he had paid for an evening of Strauss or Debussy when the\nclamor was just as loud, and to him no more melodious--and he was for\nletting them finish their \"number\" in peace.\n\nAt last the music-machine ceased from troubling, the rival canine\nconcert was ended, and laughter and song were hushed. The stillness of\nthe Arctic night fell upon the Nugget Road House, lying in the somber\nshadow of the Sawtooth Mountains. And to Baldy and all the others came\nrest and forgetfulness of such trials as nerve-racking sounds that\ndestroy well-earned sleep, and the enforced companionship of advanced\nfemales that insist upon having a paw in the management of affairs that\nshould not concern them.\n\nThe next morning both teams were ready to continue the journey. The Big\nMan with Pete Bernard and his huskies were to take the long route\nthrough the Lowlands; while \"Scotty\" decided upon the short cut by the\nGolden Gate Pass, because the Woman wanted to go the most picturesque\nway.\n\nIt had been cold but clear when they left Nugget, and was still fair,\nthough somewhat colder, when they stopped for lunch at Slisco's; but\nlater, as they went up through the steep divide, the chill wind became\nalmost unbearable.\n\nThe trail had grown exceedingly rough, and for many miles there were,\nat close intervals, a succession of jagged windrows rising like the\ncrests of huge waves frozen as they curled to break. Once when the sled\nhit a crag, in spite of every effort to steer clear of it, \"Scotty\"\nheard an ominous crack. He was obliged to stop, and with Ben's aid wound\nthe broken place with a stout cord. Then they tied the Woman in with\nropes, for there was constant fear that she might be hurled out when the\nsled swerved unavoidably.\n\n[Illustration: THE TRAIL HAD GROWN EXCEEDINGLY ROUGH]\n\nIt did not take them ten minutes to do it all, but Allan was obliged to\nremove his gloves, and one of his hands became frost-bitten, and almost\nuseless for a time. He put Jemima, who had gone slightly lame, into the\nsled with her friend, and tucked the warm rugs about them both; while\nthe boy insisted upon perching lightly on the side that he might be\nready to give instant assistance if necessary. The dog was resentful\nagainst the enforced ease, however, for she was not at all ready, in\nspite of pain, to give up her work.\n\nIn answer to the solicitous questions as to how she was standing it all,\nthere came from the numb and bleeding lips of the Woman, through an ice\nencrusted veil, a reply that was something between a groan and a sob.\nIn faltering tones she declared herself \"perfectly comfortable; found\nthe scenery glorious, and simply loved traveling by dog team.\" Had Baldy\nunderstood this assurance of a \"delightful ride,\" and had he seen\nJemima's strenuous resistance against what was necessary for her\nwell-being, it might have seemed to him proof positive of the existence\nof certain traits characteristically feminine.\n\nKid, who was no respecter of the elements, much less of people, and\nwhose one rule of life appeared to be \"Get There, and Get There First,\"\ndashed up those slippery barriers to find a sheer drop of five feet or\nmore on the other side, down which he would take team and sled.\n\nThe cold had become still more intense, and the thermometer they carried\nregistered thirty degrees below zero, with the summit far beyond. The\nsituation was serious, and \"Scotty\" felt that their best chance for\nsafety lay in the speed with which they could cross the Divide, and\nreach the open country; for there the trail led over the flats, and\nthere were not the menacing precipices, that could not now be seen\nthrough a dense fall of eddying snow.\n\nThe way had been completely obliterated, and even Kid had paused,\nconfused, and for once uncertain of the next move. \"Scotty\" called the\nboy to the handle-bars. \"Stand on the brake, Ben, and shout to Kid if he\nshould start after me. He may hear you even above the storm. I'll have\nto go on to see if I cannot locate some sort of a trail.\" He lowered his\nvoice. \"This is the worst place in the Sawtooth Range to be caught, and\nI'll have to depend upon you to do a man's work. Losing the way now\nwould be a desperate matter, but of course we must not let her know how\ndesperate,\" with a gesture toward the sled.\n\nWhen Allan forged ahead into the thickness of the whirling snow, and\ndisappeared completely, the boy felt a strange dread of the unknown.\nThere was something appalling in the mighty force of the Arctic blizzard\nthat had fallen full upon them. Something ghostly in the silent,\nmotionless figure of the Woman, covered as with a pall, by the drifting\nsnow, and in the shadowy string of dogs faintly seen, from time to time,\nwhen a rare lull cleared the air to a dim and misty grayness. Something\nterrifying in the cruel sting of the bitter wind that cut into the flesh\nlike whip-lashes, and shrieked and howled in its unspent rage over that\nlonely and desolate mountain fastness.\n\nIt seemed ages before \"Scotty\" returned to report that there was no sign\nof a trail. \"I used to know this country fairly well, and I think I'd\nbetter go on before the team for a while to try to keep at least in the\nright direction. But I'll have to put another dog in the lead with Kid.\nIt's almost impossible to make any headway, and two of the strongest\ndogs will barely be able to hold up against this blow.\"\n\nHe thought deeply for a moment. Life or death might hinge upon his\nselection of dogs that would follow him through danger and disaster\nunfalteringly, unflinchingly. And, too, he must decide at once.\n\nAs in a flash there came to him the memory of Baldy's steadfast strength\nin the boys' race, his calm determination; and after an instant's\nhesitation he hooked Baldy up beside Kid. With a few words of direction\nto Ben, \"Scotty\" turned once more into the teeth of the gale; and at his\nheels, patient and obedient, came his stanch team with Kid and Baldy in\nthe lead.\n\nBen felt, even in the midst of the distress and danger, a thrill of joy;\nwhile Baldy was filled with pride. He had supposed that Tom, Dick,\nHarry or McMillan would share that honor and responsibility with Kid,\nand now, unexpectedly, it had come to him. \"Scotty\" was trusting him;\nsafety for them all might rest on his strength and faithfulness, and he\nwas grateful indeed for this opportunity to prove that he was both\nstrong and faithful.\n\nHe did not care though the glittering frost whitened his short hair, and\npierced his sinewy flanks like a knife thrust; he hardly realized that\nthe driving snow froze his eyelids together, and caked between his toes,\nmaking his feet so tender that they bled. Straining and breathless he\nplunged forward, knowing only that behind him was his friend the boy,\nwith a helpless human being; and that somewhere beyond was his master,\ncalling to them from out the cold and the dark. So, blindly, willingly,\nthey followed the intrepid man who staggered on, and on, till at last\nthe fury of the storm was over. Then the chill mist seemed to rise, as a\ncurtain, and the peaceful Valley of the Kruzgamapa lay before them,\nbathed in the glow of the early winter sunset.\n\nFar across the white plains, surrounded by willows and alders, leafless\nand outlined skeleton-like against the rosy sky, lay the Hot Springs\nRoad House. Its shining windows and smoking chimney brought hopeful\ninterest and renewed courage, even to those already \"perfectly\ncomfortable\"; and gave to the dogs that zest and eagerness that marks\nthe sighted end of a hard day's run.\n\nIn another half hour they had arrived at their destination, and were all\nwarmly housed. Jemima, stiff, and a bit inclined to be sulky, had been\nlifted out of the sled and was now resting cozily on some furs in the\ncorner. The Woman, almost rigid, had also been lifted out, and after\nthawing a little, was busily engaged in applying soothing remedies to a\nbadly scarred cheek and chin; for the Big Man was due at any moment, and\nhis facetious comments on the unpleasant results of her \"pleasure trips\"\nhad become time-honored, if unwelcome, family jokes.\n\nBen was vastly contented in the knowledge that he had been of real\nservice, and accepted the appreciation that was warmly expressed with\nmodest joy.\n\nAs for Baldy, there was the dawn of a glorious future in that day's\nwork. When, in his turn, Allan came to him and rubbed cooling ointment\ninto his swollen and bleeding feet, there was much more than just the\ncustomary kindly stroke. Something Baldy could not fathom, that made his\nheart beat happily. There was born, of a touch and tone, the wonderful\nambition to be classed with Dubby and Kid in his master's affections; as\nwith his hand still resting gently on Baldy, \"Scotty\" turned to the boy.\n\"Ben, we're glad _now_ that we have Baldy.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nA Tragedy without a Moral--and a Comedy with One\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nA TRAGEDY WITHOUT A MORAL--AND A COMEDY WITH ONE\n\n\nLife at the Kruzgamapa Hot Springs offered a pleasant relaxation from\nthe business cares and social duties of Nome. There was very little\ndriving for the dogs, but they were allowed to chase every big beautiful\nwhite hare they could find, pursue a red fox if they were so lucky as to\nstart one, and watch the flocks of ptarmigan that fluttered near enough\nto be a constant lure.\n\nThey were out by day with the Big Man and Ben to look for game, and once\nnearly went wild with excitement when they saw an Eskimo take a large\ngray lynx from his trap. That was the sort of a cat that would be worth\nwhile as a friend or foe; and Baldy remembered Texas Allan with added\ndisdain.\n\nOccasionally natives with their sleds drawn by reindeer would pass that\nway. And if they could elude \"Scotty's\" vigilance it was great fun to\ndash after the awkward, stubborn beasts who so disliked them; and who\nsomewhat threatened, in the more remote interior, to break up the\nmonopoly of the Northern Dog Transportation Company, Unlimited.\n\nAt night they were taken for long walks by the Woman and Ben. Out over\nthe snow that crackled sharply in the clear, crisp air; out where the\nstars seemed strangely close, the moon strangely bright--and where\nacross the heavens waved the luminous, ghostly banners of the Northern\nLights.\n\nTime now meant nothing. It was the Land of Day After To-morrow, where\nthe obligation of definite hours for definite duties did not exist.\n\nAnd because there was a vacation freedom in the very atmosphere,\nsometimes they stole into the big living-room of the Road House, two or\nthree at a time; and lying in the shadowy twilight they would listen,\nin drowsy content, to the cheery snap of the wood in the huge ruddy\nstove, and to the voices of their friends as they talked of the North,\nits hardships, its happiness, its hopes.\n\n[Illustration: KRUZAMAPA HOT SPRINGS]\n\nThe great world \"Outside,\" and its troubles, seemed far away.\n\nInternational difficulties, the Fall of a Monarchy? Interesting of\ncourse, but on the last Holiday, Charles Johnson, with his marvelous\nSiberians, supplemented the previous Siberian triumph of John Johnson by\nwinning the Solomon Derby of that year; making the course of sixty-five\nmiles in but little more than five hours. That was something to worry\none.\n\nSuffrage? Desirable for many places, naturally. Though in Nome a woman\ncould be a member of the Kennel Club, enter a racing team, and vote on\nschool matters, long before the franchise was given her by the\nLegislature in Juneau. And surely that, all agreed, had been as liberal\na policy as any reasonable female should have demanded from any\ncommunity.\n\nThe Tariff, Panama Canal news, and graft prosecutions? Well, of course,\none discussed such affairs casually; but after all, the Dog Question in\nall its phases was of far more immediate importance to Alaskans. And so\nthey spent many an hour in reminiscences and prophecies; and were\nthrilled over and over again with the excitement of the great contests\nthey had witnessed--lost and won; basing predictions for the future on\nthe achievements of the past.\n\nThen the dogs would be roused by the entrance of the Eskimo hunters, who\nstopped in the dusk of the evening on the way back to their settlement\nat Mary's Igloo, to barter for their day's bag. And later they sniffed\nwith keen pleasure the wonderful smells from the adjoining kitchen;\nsmells of broiled trout, reindeer steaks, and Arctic grouse--and\nfainter, but more delicious still, the odor of their own meal being\ncooked in the tent beside the cabin door.\n\nThey remained at the Springs a couple of weeks; and delightful weeks\nthey were, too, but for one unfortunate incident, which was precipitated\nbecause of Tom's aristocratic race prejudice.\n\nHe had always hated Eskimo dogs; choosing either to ignore his own\nhuskie blood, or feeling that it was superior to the native strain in\nthe malamutes of the coast--just as some people boast of being\ndescended from Pocahontas, but would shudder at the mere idea of a\nSiwash Squaw ancestress.\n\nAt all events, Tom had resented the entrance of the Eskimo, Wolf, into\nthe Kennel; and never failed, when \"Scotty\" was not about, to manifest\nan enmity that would have told a civilized dog not to attempt any\nliberties with him. But Wolf was only an ignorant puppy, taken from a\nnative igloo, where all of the dogs and all of the family lived in happy\nharmony; and so, one day when he was particularly joyous, he nipped, in\na spirit of mischief, the end of Tom's wagging stump of a tail. Tom\nwheeled instantly, his hair bristling and his jaws apart, but the timely\narrival of Matt made further demonstration impossible; and Tom's\ninstinctive dislike for Wolf grew into an obsession after that direct\nand personal insult.\n\nIn their well-appointed quarters in Nome, with each dog in his own\nstall, revenge was out of the question; and when in harness, or out with\nMatt for exercise, there was as little chance for settling a grievance\nas there would be with soldiers on parade. But at the Springs Tom's\nopportunity came.\n\nThe small stables were overcrowded, there being seventy dogs in camp\nbelonging to storm-bound travelers. It was necessary to chain them\ncloser together than \"Scotty\" felt was wise, though he was not prepared\nfor the tragedy that greeted him when he went out one morning to see\nthat all was well with the team.\n\nEvery dog rose to greet him, as he came in with the Woman and Ben,\nexcept Wolf, who lay dead, strangled with his own collar.\n\nThe muscular body, so supple and vigorous but a short time before, was\nstiffening fast; and there were signs of a struggle desperate but\nineffectual.\n\n\"Oh, 'Scotty,' can't you do something for poor Wolf?\" and the tears came\nto the Woman's eyes as she laid a pitying hand on the handsome head of\nthe tawny malamute.\n\n\"It's too late,\" said Allan regretfully. \"He was a good dog, too; and\nwould have made a strong addition to the team, properly handled.\"\n\nA careful examination showed that on the left hind foot were traces of\nblood and marks of teeth; and there were but two dogs who could have\nreached Wolf to stretch him till he choked--Baldy and Tom.\n\nThe Woman looked accusingly toward Baldy. \"I suppose he did it. He\nprobably does not realize how wicked it was, he has had so little\ndiscipline as yet.\"\n\nAnxious to defend the dog, Ben answered impulsively, \"I'm quite sure\nBaldy wouldn't do a thing like that. He's been friends with Wolf; I saw\nthem playing together only yesterday. And it really ain't a bit like\nBaldy t' be cruel an' sneakin'--t' lay fer a dog that didn't have a\nchance agin him.\"\n\n\"But surely Tom, after all of his years of training, would not have\nattacked one of his own stable-mates. Such a thing has never occurred\nbefore in our Kennel. I fear, Ben, it must have been Baldy.\"\n\nBut \"Scotty\" was not so confident. \"I agree with Ben; it's not like\nBaldy. I have never found him quarrelsome, nor vindictive. And I hate,\ntoo, to believe Tom guilty. You know I never punish a dog on\ncircumstantial evidence; so I am afraid this cold-blooded murder will\nhave to be passed over, unless we can be certain of the criminal. There\nis always the possibility that a stray dog may have been responsible.\"\n\n\"Well, don't saddle it onto the Yellow Peril,\" exclaimed the Big Man,\nwho came in to see what was the matter. \"He is popularly supposed to\nstart every dog fight in Nome; but this time he can prove a clear\nalibi, for he slept at the foot of my bed all night.\" Thus exonerated,\nthe Peril passed by the line of chained dogs, bumping into them in a\nperfectly unnecessary manner, and emitting supercilious growls that in\nthemselves would have been sufficient grounds for instant death if Pete\nBernard's huskies could have acted upon their unanimous opinion.\n\n\"It's a terrible thing,\" sighed the Woman, \"to have a murderer in our\nmidst and not know who it is. It makes me feel positively creepy.\" And\nagain, almost unconsciously, her glance fell upon Baldy.\n\nAnd so the affair was ended officially. But Baldy could not forget the\nsickening suspicion that had rested upon him. In her heart the Woman\nfelt that he was the culprit; and even \"Scotty\" had not been absolutely\ncertain of his innocence. There was only Ben who _knew_.\n\nForlornly the boy and the dog wandered about throughout that dismal day,\nwhich seemed interminable. Nothing interested them, even the very things\nthat had made the other days pass so quickly and so happily. Nothing\nexcept gloomily watching Tom, whose actions would have plainly proved\nhis guilt to \"Scotty\" had the man not been too absorbed in an\nimprovement for his sled to take much notice of anything else.\n\nFor a brief period the wily criminal had shown a humility as deep as it\nwas unusual; he had sat on a pile of wood alone, not even romping with\nDick and Harry till he felt the Hour of Judgment had passed. And then,\ndeciding that there was no punishment forthcoming, he had leaped and\nfrisked, and seemed so guileless that Baldy's contempt for his own kind\nmade life hardly worth while.\n\nOne might look for such actions from inferior animals--from a cat that\nhas killed a bird for instance; for cats are only soft-footed, purring\nbundles of deceit, with no standard of trail morals. But for a dog, a\nracing dog, and one belonging to the Allan and Darling Team, it was\nalmost incredible. One would expect him at least to have the courage of\nhis convictions, and be willing to take the consequences of what he\nregarded as a legitimate feud.\n\nTom's escape from all blame in this deplorable matter rankled. It made\nBaldy realize the indifference or casual injustice of a world that\nseldom delves below the surface of things; and while at times it plunged\nhim into periods of depression, more often it spurred him on in his\ndogged determination to attain the goal of his recently aroused\nambitions.\n\nFortunately he had a forgiving nature, and realized they could not know\nhow deeply he had been wounded by their lack of faith. Also he was too\nbusy to brood very much, for when they exercised at all, the new dogs\nwere being tried out, and the older ones were in demand as \"trainers.\"\nMost recruits are as eager for the honor of making the team as a\nfreshman is to get into college football; but occasionally it was thrust\nupon an unwilling candidate.\n\n\"I should not be at all surprised if I have some trouble with Fisher,\"\nremarked \"Scotty,\" as he turned the dogs out one day for their usual\nrun. \"He has a certain malamute stubbornness that might cause me a lot\nof annoyance just when I could least afford the time to correct him.\"\n\n\"Well, after your famous victory over Jack McMillan I do not anticipate\nseeing any real difficulty with Fisher,\" was the Big Man's confident\nreply. \"I think you would be eligible to the position of wild beast\ntamer in a menagerie as the result of your tussle with Jack; for his\nstrong wolf strain and his enormous strength certainly made him a\nformidable opponent. Yet you never tied nor whipped him.\"\n\n\"That had been tried constantly, with no success, and some danger. You\nsee, with McMillan's disposition, such treatment only made him more\ndefiant, without in the least breaking his spirit. I knew of course that\nhe would have to be conquered, and conquered completely, or become an\noutlaw against whom every one would turn; but the punishment would have\nto be more vital and less humiliating than a beating. It won't do to\nembitter an animal any more than it will a person. You have to leave a\ncertain self-respect and give him a fair chance.\"\n\nAnd more than a fair chance Jack had received in that thrilling moment\nwhen the wiry little Scotchman, cool and determined, had faced the huge\nbrute whose nature, harking back to the wild, threw off the shackles of\ngenerations of suppression and training, and rose to meet his hereditary\nenemy--opposing fierce resentment to all efforts of control.\n\nFor an instant the man and dog had paused, each seeming to gauge the\nstrength of the other--then the instinct to kill, that heritage from the\npast, when the timber wolf gave no quarter, rose supreme; and the dog\nsprang forward, the wide open jaws revealing his sharp, white teeth and\ncruelly broken tusks. Suddenly the weight of Allan's body was hurled\nagainst him; strong supple fingers closed upon his neck, and with an\nunexpected wrench Jack McMillan's head was buried in a drift of soft,\ndeep snow. He struggled violently to wrest himself from the iron grasp;\nmadly he fought for freedom; but always there was that slow, deadly\ntightening at the throat. Panting and choking, he had made one last\ndesperate attempt to break the grip that pinned him down; and then lay\nspent and inert except for an occasional hoarse gasp, or convulsive\nmovement of his massive frame.\n\nAt length the man had risen, and the dog, feeling himself loosed, and\nable to get his breath, staggered uncertainly to his feet, turned, and\nstood bravely facing his foe. There was, for a brief period, the\nsuggestion of a renewed conflict in the dog's attitude. With the foam\ndripping from his mouth, quivering in every muscle; but still erect,\nexhausted but not cowed, he waited for the next move--and when it came\nMcMillan had met his master. Not because of the force in the vise-like\nfingers, not because of the dominating mind that controlled them, but\nbecause of the generous spirit that treats a conquered enemy--even a\ndog--as an honorable antagonist, not an abject slave.\n\nThere had seemed to be a sudden comprehension on the part of the dog,\nlike the clearing of a distorting mist. He realized in the tone of the\nman's voice the recognition and appreciation of qualities which stand\nnot alone for unquenchable hatred, but for undying fidelity as well; and\nwhen \"Scotty's\" hand fell upon his head, and gently stroked the soft\nsable muzzle, Jack McMillan had not only met a master, but he had made a\nfriend.\n\n\"But Fisher is quite different from Jack. There was never anything petty\nabout him. Even his hatred had something impressive about it, for he\nfought to kill, and was never snarling and underhanded. You always knew\nwhere you stood with him. While Fisher is not at all dangerous, he has\nmany undesirable traits that are difficult to overcome. He shirked all\nthe way up from town. That may have been the fault of his training, or\npossibly he is naturally lazy; that is what I want to find out. At any\nrate nagging does not seem to worry him in the least.\"\n\nThe Woman came out of the house pulling on her fur gloves. \"What do you\nsay,\" she asked Allan, \"to a spin over to Mary's Igloo? Father Bernard\nhas all sorts of native curios there that I should like to see, and the\nday is right for a drive.\"\n\n\"Fine idea,\" agreed the Big Man. \"And Ben and I will follow with as many\nof Pete's huskies as we think we can manage without being slated for the\nhospital. We might try the Yellow Peril in the lead.\"\n\n\"In that case,\" the Woman responded rather grimly, \"you will probably be\nslated for the cemetery instead. Why don't you get a couple of reindeer\nfrom the camp just below? They may not be so fast, but they are surely\nsafe, and one feels so picturesque behind them, with all their gay felt\ncollars and trappings.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" whistled for the dogs, but Fisher was not to be seen. He had\ngone back into the stable to doze on the hay, his favorite pastime.\nAgain and again the whistle failed to gain any response. The other dogs\nhad all stepped into place before the sled; when at last Fisher,\nreluctant in coming, meditated a moment, and then, in open rebellion,\ndarted down the steep banks into the overflow of the Springs. The water,\na strange freak of nature in the Arctic, was very warm, and deep enough\nso that he had to swim; and he felt that he had selected an ideal place\nfor his Declaration of Independence.\n\nBut \"Scotty,\" shouting directions to have the other dogs unhitched,\nimmediately started in pursuit of the rebel.\n\nFisher left the hard, well-beaten track, and struck out for some small\nwillows and alders where the snow had drifted in feathery masses. He\nbroke through the crust frequently, but knew that a man would have more\ndifficulty still in making any headway. Finally Allan turned back to the\nhouse, and Fisher sat down to think over his little victory. He was\ntired and panting, but he felt he had scored a point; when to his\namazement he saw the man coming toward him, and now on snow-shoes. He\nplunged forward, and relentlessly \"Scotty\" followed. Hour after hour\nthe chase continued, until Fisher realized, at length, the futility of\nit all; and thoroughly exhausted, crouched shivering in the snow,\nwaiting for the punishment that lay in the coils of the long black whip\nin the man's hand.\n\nWhen some little distance from him, Allan paused and called to Fisher.\n\nThe dog listened. There was something compelling in the tone, something\nhe could not resist; and so in spite of the temptation to make one more\nwild dash for liberty, the dog crawled to \"Scotty's\" feet in fear and\ntrembling. And instead of the sting of the lash he had expected, a\nkindly touch fell upon him, and a friendly voice said, \"It's a good\nthing, old fellow, you decided to come to me of your own free will.\n\n\"It means a bone instead of a beating--remember that always,\" and a\ndelicious greasy bone was taken from a capacious pocket and given him.\n\nSo Fisher went back to the stable with \"Scotty \"; where Jack McMillan\nand other ex-rebels, but now loyal subjects, ignored, with a politeness\nborn of similar experiences, the little episode that taught Fisher once\nfor all that respect for authority eliminates the necessity for a\nwhipping. Which is, perhaps, the canine version of Virtue being its own\nReward.\n\nThe drive back to town was pleasant but uneventful. Ben, perfectly well\nagain, was eager to begin his school work and lay a foundation for the\nwonderful education that Moose Jones had in mind for him, while Baldy\nwas glad to be at home once more where he could settle down to his\nregular duties. It was with a contentment quite new to him, for in\n\"Scotty\" Allan there was evident a growing recognition of his earnest\ndesire to be of real use. And with that certainty he ceased to worry\nover the short-sightedness of a world which, till now, had appeared to\nhim unable to grasp the idea that while beauty is only fur deep, ability\ngoes to the bone.\n\nTom, Dick and Harry might attract the notice of strangers by their\npersuasive ways; Jack McMillan compel admiration by his magnificence;\nIrish and Rover win caresses by their affectionate demonstrations. But\nafter all, in storm and stress, with perhaps a life at stake, it was to\nhim, to Baldy the obscure, to Baldy \"formerly of Golconda, now of\nNome,\" that his master had turned in his hour of greatest need.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nWith the Flight of Time\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nWITH THE FLIGHT OF TIME\n\n\nThe town of Nome, extending along the shore of Bering Sea for nearly two\nmiles, is not built back to any extent on the tundra, which stretches\naway, a bog in summer, to the low-lying hills in the distance. In winter\nthis is, however, a wide sweep of spotless snow crossed by well-defined\ntrails--and it was here that the dogs were given their exercise.\n\nThere were many pleasant diversions in this daily training; visits to\nthe outlying camps, where they were lauded and petted by the miners, and\nsurreptitiously banqueted by the camp cooks.\n\nThen there were impromptu races into town if by chance they encountered\nother teams coming back after the day's work; when the leaders, eying\none another critically, even scornfully, would, without so much as a\nbark by way of discussion, start headlong for Nome, which was visible in\nthe shadowy gray twilight only by its curling smoke and twinkling\nlights.\n\nOn they would come, over the Bridge, and up the steep banks of Dry\nCreek, turning into Front Street, and dashing down that main\nthoroughfare at a pace that took little heed of city speed limits.\n\nIt was an hour when baby-sleds and small children were not in evidence;\nand so they were always urged on to a spirited finish by the eager\nvoices of bystanders, to whom sport is more important than home and\ndinner.\n\nThe unmarked days have slipped into the fast-flying weeks, and they into\nthe months; till, suddenly, as from a lethargy, the North arouses itself\nto greet the first unfailing herald of spring--the Dog Races of Nome.\nAnd about the second week in February the serious work that is the\nforerunner of these spring races is begun; and Baldy found his time full\nto overflowing with the duties that had long since become joys.\n\nMany luxuries were added to their usual comforts, and all sorts of\nimprovements made in equipment. There were beautiful patent leather\ncollars stuffed with caribou hair and faced with rattan, so there should\nbe no chafing of the neck; they were as \"fine and becoming,\" the Woman\nsaid, \"as feather boas.\" All extra weight was eliminated. The harness\nwas of thin linen webbing; snaps and buckles gave place to ivory\ntoggles; wooden whiffletrees were replaced by those made of aluminum,\nand the tow-line, light and flexible, and of incredible strength, was of\nwalrus hide.\n\nMost wonderful of all, it seemed to Ben, George and Dan, was the racing\nsled, built on delicate lines, but of tough, almost unbreakable hickory,\nand lashed with reindeer sinew. It weighed but little more than thirty\npounds--\"as trim a bark as ever sailed the uncharted trails,\" according\nto Pete Bernard; and surely a sight to gladden the eyes of a Dog Musher\nof the North.\n\nTo the front of this was attached a delicately adjusted combination of\nscales and springs, by which Allan could tell when the draft of the team\nequaled a pound to the dog; and if more was indicated he was always\nbehind pushing and adding all of the strength he possessed to that of\nthose steel-muscled animals each of whom can start, on runners, several\nhundred pounds on level snow.\n\nThe Kennel was at all times delightful and spotless from its frequent\ncoats of whitewash. It was airy in summer, and protected in winter; and\nthe mangers used for beds and stuffed with clean, dry straw, were far\nenough off the floor so that there could be no dampness. Electric lights\nin the long dark months made it possible to keep the place easily in\nperfect order; but with increased activity came increased conveniences\nsuch as hooks in the stalls to hold each dog's harness, which was marked\nwith the wearer's name, and many other trouble-saving devices that would\nprevent confusion when they were preparing for their frequent runs.\n\nOf course the Allan and Darling dogs were all docked. That it was\ncorrect, and gave them a trim appearance, would not have impressed Baldy\nin the least; but that it kept their tails from freezing when going\nthrough overflows in icy streams, which causes much personal agony, and\ninjury to the eyes of the dog in the rear, was a matter of signal\nimportance.\n\nAlways well-groomed, the care of the Kennel inmates now became the sole\ntask of Matt, who examined them thoroughly twice a day; cutting and\nfiling their nails when necessary, that they might not split, and\ncurrying and brushing their hair till the Big Man observed that these\nelaborate preparations suggested a beauty contest rather than a dog\nrace.\n\nBen Edwards was about constantly, when not in school, to assist Matt;\nand under his unremitting attention Baldy was fast becoming, if not\nhandsome, at least far from unsightly.\n\nThen, too, Ben would often help \"Scotty\" by taking Baldy and several of\nthe steady dogs out, to give the former as much experience in the wheel\nas possible; for Baldy was being seriously considered as a permanent\nwheeler in the Racing Team. His qualifications were not brilliant, but\nhe had proved in the Juvenile Race that he possessed the power to\nenforce his authority on flighty and reckless dogs; and on the trip to\nthe Hot Springs that his courage was equal to his energy.\n\nMany of the dogs had been in several of the Sweepstakes teams and they\nrealized that these short, snappy spins were for speed and not\nendurance, which is the main feature of the great race.\n\nBaldy watched with much anxiety the lack of intelligent interest on the\npart of a few of the recruits, and tried to infuse the proper zest into\nthem by the force of a good example. That not proving entirely\nsatisfactory, he had been known, when really necessary, to use the\nprerogative of a loose leader, and bite the dog in front of him when he\nwished to suggest more readiness, or a closer attention to business. But\nthat was contrary to Baldy's peace policy, and was always a last resort.\n\nThe old guard were naturally the mentors, and it was a pleasure to watch\nthe skill with which they performed their tasks. It was a stupid or\nunwilling dog indeed who could not learn much from the agile Tolmans, or\nthe gentle Irish Setters, in whom the fierce strong blood of some huskie\ngrandparent would never be suspected except for a certain toughness that\nmanifested itself in trail work alone.\n\nAs for Kid, capable from the first, he was fast developing a justifiable\nconfidence in himself, and a perfect control over the rest of the team,\nand \"Scotty\" was jubilant over such a leader.\n\n\"We have a good team,\" he said to the Woman as they stood watching the\ndogs at play out in the corral with Ben, George and Dan. \"And we need\nit. Matt tells me that Seward Peninsula has been scoured quietly, from\none end to the other, to add finer dogs to last year's seasoned entries.\nAnd all of the drivers will be men who know the game.\" Which meant a\nsevere struggle; for strength and speed in the dogs, and real\ngeneralship and a masterly comprehension of all phases of the trail, in\nthe driver, are the chief requisites in this wonderful contest.\n\n\"They're in great form,\" observed the Woman with pride and admiration.\n\"I don't think I have ever seen them looking better.\"\n\n\"True,\" agreed \"Scotty.\" \"But don't count too much on that, for the year\nwe had that strange epidemic in the Kennel, something like distemper,\nthey seemed perfectly well till almost the day of the race. And that was\nthe race,\" grimly, \"when the dear little Fuzzy-wuzzy Lap Dogs, as you\ncall them, made the record time, and we came in third.\"\n\n\"Well,\" ruefully, \"they had a true Siberian trail all the way; it was\nclear and cold, and there was not a single blizzard. And the whole North\nknows that our rangy half-breeds are at their best when there are\nstorms, and the route is rough and broken. The luck of the trail,\"\nsighing, \"but at that, they were marvels.\"\n\nWithout cavil, and with due praise from friend and antagonist alike, the\nsuccess of the Siberians that year had been phenomenal and well\ndeserved. And so, when the \"Iron Man\" John Johnson, driving a team\nentered by Colonel Charles Ramsay of London, and Fox Ramsay driving his\nown team of the same type, were first and second, the Ramsay Tartan\nfluttered beside the flag of Finland in triumph. It made no difference\nthat one driver was the son of a Scotch Earl and one of a Scandinavian\nPeasant--they were both men in the eyes of all Alaska; and they were\nboth, with their sturdy dogs, saluted as victors in this classic of the\nsnows. And John Johnson's record of four hundred and eight miles in\nseventy-four hours, fourteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds had made\nhistory in the North.\n\n[Illustration: The Ramsay Siberians]\n\n\"I did not feel half so bad, did you, 'Scotty,' when Fay Dalzene beat us\nwith that great team of his and Russ Bowen's? For after all they were\nour type of dog, and justified our faith in the Alaskans.\"\n\n\nBut no one year's result, nor the accumulated result of several years,\ncould settle the question of supremacy between the two breeds; and so\nthe smouldering rivalry continued and was fanned into a hot flame each\nseason just before the Solomon Derby.\n\n\"You'll have a lot of able rivals, if the immense number of speedy teams\nI see in the streets means anything,\" was the Big Man's comment one\nevening when the Woman, after a fast drive, was boasting of the marked\nimprovement in the team work of their entry.\n\n\"'Scotty' says he's glad of it; the more teams that go into racing the\nhigher the standard in Nome. There has never been a time since the camp\nstarted when there have been so many efficient dogs as now; and it's\njust because the people are learning that the only way you can have good\ndogs is to give them good care. When an Eskimo gets together a racing\nteam, and an excellent one at that, it begins to look like a general\nreform. Don't you remember when practically all of the natives used to\nforce puppies, who were far too young to be driven at all, to draw the\nentire family in a sled that was already overflowing with household\ngoods?\"\n\n\"Yes, at one time you could certainly tell an Eskimo team as far as you\ncould see it by the gait of the wretched, mangy beasts, that always\nappeared to be in the last stages of exhaustion.\"\n\n\"And there's really a vast improvement in the freighting teams as well;\nfor so many dogs that do not quite make the racing teams become\nfreighters and show the results of their breeding and training there. In\nfact,\" enthusiastically, \"I am sure that dog racing has been an enormous\nbenefit to Nome in every way. Stefansson told me himself that never in\nhis experience, and it has been wide, had he found such dogs as those\n'Scotty' bought for their Canadian Arctic Expedition. And I believe,\"\nwith conviction, \"it is because Nome dogs, through the races, are\nacknowledged to be the best in all the North--for both sport and work.\"\n\nThe Big Man smiled, and suggested, banteringly, that she embody those\nviews into form for the benefit of Congress.\n\nThe Woman looked rather puzzled. \"Congress?\" she demanded; \"and why\nCongress?\"\n\n\"Because,\" he continued with some amusement, \"there are people who\nventure to differ with you materially in your view-point. I understand\nthat very recently the Kennel Club has received communications from\nvarious high officials of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to\nAnimals, threatening to place the matter of dog racing in Nome before\nCongress, with the hope of having these cruel racing contests stopped.\n\n\"That is, of course, if those concerned cannot be made to see the error\nof their ways by some less drastic method.\"\n\nFor a moment the Woman was quite speechless with surprise and dismay.\n\n\"Well,\" she finally exclaimed, \"if that isn't human nature for\nyou--beams and motes and all that sort of thing.\n\n\"Good people with the very best intentions in the world, trying to\ninterfere in affairs about which they know nothing, thousands of miles\naway; when probably around the very next corner are things about which\nthey should know everything, needing their attention constantly.\"\n\n\"They say, in one letter, that there are many Alaskans, as well as\nOutsiders, who have made these complaints.\"\n\n\"Oh, I dare say,\" scornfully, \"even in Alaska there are persons whose\nonly idea of a dog is that of a fat, wheezy house-dog who crunches bones\nunder the dining table, and sleeps on a crocheted shawl in a Morris\nchair. But _real_ Alaskans know that pity for the dogs of the North\nshould be felt, not for the Racers, but for the poor work dogs who haul\ntheir burdens of lumber and machinery and all kinds of supplies out to\nthe distant mines.\n\n\"And that, too, over rough and splintered ties in the glare of the\nfierce summer sun that shines for nearly twenty-four hours at a stretch.\nI'll wager,\" defiantly, \"that if Alaska dogs have one supreme ambition,\nlike that of every loyal small American boy to become President of the\nUnited States, it is to become a member of a racing team.\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly,\" agreed the Big Man soothingly. \"But Congress, I believe,\nis ignorant of such ambitions as yet.\"\n\n\"Congress is ignorant of a good many things concerning Alaska and the\nAlaskans,\" contemptuously.\n\n\"It was because for years Congress imposed a prohibitive tax on\nrailways through this wilderness, a tax only just now removed, that\ninnumerable freighters, day after day, have crawled into town unnoticed,\nwith feet cut and bruised and bleeding, and with no one to herald their\nsuffering to a sympathetic world. It's because their labors were not\nspectacular, and the dogs were too obscure to attract more than a\npassing pity--never national interest, or interference.\"\n\n\"But they assert, if I may go on,\" ventured the Big Man with an\nassumption of fear, \"that the condition of the dogs, at the finish of\nthese four hundred and eight mile races, is deplorable.\"\n\n\"They're tired; naturally very tired; though the necessity of fairly\nforcing their steps through the crushing, cheering, frantic mob often\ngives them an effect of utter exhaustion that belies their actual\ncondition.\n\n\"You know how often we have gone down to the Kennel within an hour or so\nafter their arrival, and have found them comfortably resting and showing\nlittle, if any, signs of the ordeal. Many and many a prospector's team\nis in far worse condition after a severe winter's trip, made just for\nordinary business purposes, while all of the Kennel Club's rules for\nracing are aimed against cruelty.\n\n\"Why, you know that the very first one says you must bring back every\ndog with which you started, dead or alive, and--\"\n\nThe Big Man laughed heartily. \"Dare I mention that the 'Dead or Alive'\nrule is the one that seems to have caused the most unfavorable comment\nOutside.\n\n\"They seem to think it has rather a desperate 'win at any hazard' sound\nthat needs toning down a bit.\"\n\n\"It means,\" remarked the Woman severely, \"that even if a dog becomes\nlame or useless, and a detriment to the rest, he must not be abandoned,\nbut brought back just the same. And as a team is only as strong as its\nweakest member, surely they can realize that it is a matter of policy,\neven if not prompted by his love for them, for every driver to keep his\ndogs in the best possible condition--that he may not be forced to carry\none that is disabled upon his sled. That would seriously handicap any\nteam.\"\n\n\"Of course, my dear, all will admit, even Congress, that this is no\ncountry for weaklings--men or dogs--and that is no contest for those who\ncannot brave the elements and survive the dangers of a desperately hard\ntrail.\n\n\"And I will maintain, freely, that no athletes in the Olympic Games of\nGreece, nor college men in training for the field, are more carefully\nand considerately treated than are the dogs in the All Alaska\nSweepstakes. But, you see, these Outsiders don't know that.\"\n\n\"I only wish,\" said the Woman earnestly, \"that the Officers of the\nSociety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and Congress, and\neverybody, might hear the way Dalzene, Holmsen, Hegness, Fred Ayers, and\nthe Johnsons speak of their dogs, just as one speaks of cherished\nfriends, not dumb brutes. If they had seen the 'Iron Man' with the tears\nrolling down his furrowed cheeks as he tenderly caressed the dead body\nof one of his little Siberians; or had watched 'Scotty' Allan breast the\nicy waters of a surging flood the night of the great storm, to save an\ninjured dog not even his own, I am sure there would be no further talk\nof cruelty amongst dog racers. And to think,\" she concluded\nindignantly, \"that these protests come from congested centers in\ncivilized communities, where pampered poodles die from lack of exercise\nand over-feeding, and little children from overwork and starvation!\"\n\n\"There is no occasion for immediate worry,\" was the Big Man's\nconsolation. \"I rather think Congress has troubles enough of its own\njust at present, without mixing up in dog racing in Nome. There won't be\nmuch excitement about it in Washington this session.\"\n\nEarly in the day before the coming event, the Woman sauntered down\ntoward the Kennel slowly, her mind filled with agreeable memories and\nhappy anticipations.\n\nAt this last try-out the team had shown more speed than ever, and a\ncertain delight in their work that spoke well for the final selection\nthat had been made; while Kid, as a leader, had been manifesting such\nextraordinary talent that even Allan had been loud in his praise. Which\nwas rare, for his approval of his dogs was more often expressed in deeds\nthan in words.\n\nAt the door of the Kennel she paused--struck instantly by an\nunmistakable air of depression that pervaded the place. Even McMillan\ndid not howl his usual noisy welcome.\n\n\"Any one here?\" and out into the semi-dusk of the Arctic morning came\nBen, his face plainly showing grief and consternation.\n\n\"Oh, Ben, what is it, what is the matter?\" exclaimed the Woman\ntremulously. \"Has something dreadful happened to 'Scotty'--the dogs;\nwhat is wrong--do tell me!\"\n\n\"It's poor Kid,\" sobbed the boy. \"We found him dead a little while ago,\nwhen 'Scotty' and Matt and me come in t' fix the harness an' sled fer\nto-morrer. I went back t' see Baldy, an' you know Kid was next to him,\nan' after I'd spoke t' Baldy, Kid 'ud allers put his paw out t' shake\nhands and kinda whimper soft an' joyful, like he was sayin' nice things\nt' you. But this time there wasn't a sound from him; an' when I looked,\nthere he was, dead, a-hangin' by a strap that was caught up high someway\nso's he couldn't pull it loose. 'Scotty' said he must 'a' been tryin'\nfer some reason t' git over the boards that divided him from the next\nstall.\n\n\"But it was somethin' he'd never done before--one o' them accidents you\ncan't count on, unless you tie 'em so short they ain't comfortable.\nAnyway, he was stiff an' cold when we got to him. The poor feller never\nhad a chance after he was caught.\"\n\nThe boy wiped away the fast-flowing tears. \"There wasn't,\" he said\nregretfully, \"another dog in the Kennel I liked so much as him--after\nBaldy. And 'Scotty' feels awful bad, too. He can't hardly talk about it.\nHe's gone into the house now, but he says he'll be back pretty soon.\"\n\nWhen Allan reappeared there was a look of sadness in his eyes, and a\nhusky tone to his voice. It was plain to see that he mourned not only a\nwonderful leader, but a loving companion as well; and when he moved\nsilently and sorrowfully amongst the other dogs, they knew that\nsomething was very wrong and gave him as little trouble as they could.\n\nAnd so the entire Kennel was plunged into gloom by this unhappy\noccurrence, for Kid had been a genial stable-mate and a general\nfavorite. All the dogs seemed to share in the grief of their masters.\n\n\"Will you withdraw the entry?\" asked the Woman, who realized perfectly\nthat Kid had been the mainstay and inspiration, as a great leader must\nbe, of the whole Derby Team.\n\n\"No,\" was \"Scotty's\" prompt reply. \"We'll run just the same.\n\n\"There has never been a race in Nome yet in which I have not driven a\nteam; and leader or no leader, I'll not back out now. Don't be\ndiscouraged. We'll win this race yet!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nThe Solomon Derby\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE SOLOMON DERBY\n\n\nThe morning of the Solomon Derby dawned clear and cold. It was twenty\ndegrees below zero, but was ideal racing weather, as there was no wind;\nand the course was reported in excellent condition.\n\n\"This is the first time I ever prepared for a race,\" remarked Allan as\nhe examined the different dogs carefully, \"that I have not been looking\nforward to it with the keenest pleasure. I was mighty fond of Kid, and\nhad trained him with more care than any other dog I have handled except\nold Dubby. And Kid was perfectly adapted to lead this particular team,\nfor the dogs were so willing to defer to him without any ill-feeling.\nHis loss is a severe handicap now, I can tell you. Somehow he was so\nyoung and vigorous that the possibility of anything serious happening to\nhim did not occur to me; he had never been ailing a day in his life.\nGenerally I have at least one other dog fairly well prepared to lead if\nnecessary; but I was so determined to make a marvel of Kid that I did\nnot take that precaution, and at present there is not a single one that\nI consider up to the mark for such a race as this.\"\n\n\"Why not try Tom?\" suggested the Woman. \"The Tolman dogs are all\nintelligent, and these have never known anything but racing all their\nlives, and must have absorbed a lot of knowledge about it, even if they\nhave not been leaders. Besides, you have had Tom in the lead a few\ntimes, have you not?\"\n\n\"Yes, once or twice lately to rest Kid, and,\" ruefully, \"the result was\nnot one that fills me with any confidence in him for a really important\nevent like this. The Tolmans, you know, never fall below the necessary\nstandard in anything, neither do they ever rise above it. They are all\nright in the rank and file where their thinking is done for them; but\nas for leading--\" the man shrugged his shoulders expressively.\n\n\"Well, if Tom wouldn't do, there's no use talkin' 'bout Dick and Harry;\nfer Tom is the smartest o' that bunch. But he ain't popular with the\nrest o' the team, like Kid was. Them Tolmans has a high-handed way to\n'em that some won't stand fer,\" remarked Matt as he began to remove the\nracing harness from the hooks and place it on the floor beside the\ntow-line, which was stretched out in the middle of the Kennel.\n\nDan, Ben and George had been considering the predicament gravely as\nGeorge bestowed even more than his usual attention upon Spot's\nappearance.\n\n\"Spot,\" he observed with repressed pride, \"ain't had much 'sperience,\nbut he won a great race just the same. Don't forget that, Dad.\"\n\n\"He's a trifle young,\" replied \"Scotty,\" \"and besides,\" slyly, \"we might\nmeet an Eskimo hunter somewhere on the way.\"\n\nDan claimed recognition for the Mego \"houn'\" pups, especially Judge, and\nthe Woman, with some hesitation, spoke of McMillan; but Allan gave\nvalid reasons why they were not eligible.\n\n\"Not much time left,\" announced the Big Man as he, with the Peril, paced\nrestlessly up and down in front of the Kennel.\n\n\"Scotty\" pondered anxiously, for his decision must be made immediately.\nHe walked over to Rex, regarding him intently.\n\n\"Do you believe,\" said a low, faltering voice beside him, \"that--that\nBaldy could lead? Him and Kid took us safe over the Golden Gate Divide\nin that terrible blizzard, an' mebbe he learnt somethin' about leadin'\nfrom Kid that night. He's mighty willin' an' strong, an'--\"\n\n\"True, Ben; that idea had just come to me, too. I am absolutely sure I\ncan depend upon him to do his level best. Whether he is fast enough is\nthe question.\" With a sigh he added, \"Well, fast or slow, there's not\nmuch choice. I'll have to fall back upon Baldy to-day. Matt,\" he called,\n\"you may put Baldy in the lead.\"\n\n\"Baldy in the lead!\" exclaimed Matt in astonishment. \"Why, except fer a\ntime or so that we've drove him that way t'kinda fill out, he's never\nbeen in the lead since we got him. If we're as shy on leaders as all\nthat, I'd hook up Mego; she's still good, if she is old. But Baldy!\"\n\n\"Surely, surely, 'Scotty,'\" pleaded the Woman, \"you'll not use an\nuntried dog to-day of all days. Baldy has never shown anything more than\njust ordinary speed, and you know a leader has to set the pace for them\nall. If he hasn't the pride in his work, the spirit, he's a failure; and\nBaldy,\" desperately, \"is just a plodder.\"\n\nBut \"Scotty\" was firm. \"He's more than that; you couldn't see what he\ndid in the storm on the Hot Springs Trail. He's our best chance.\" Then,\n\"Baldy in the lead, Matt, and be quick; we're almost due now at the\npost.\" And so it was Baldy who led the Allan and Darling entry in the\nSolomon Derby.\n\nIt took the strongest self-control and the keenest desire not to shake\n\"Scotty's\" faith in him, to keep Baldy from bolting when he moved\nthrough those throngs whose nearness roused in him such unaccountable\nfear.\n\nMost of the dogs, now more or less accustomed to these gatherings,\nstood quietly indifferent to the clamor and confusion.\n\nJack McMillan was distinctly annoyed by it all; he did not wish to have\nstrangers pushing against him, stroking his back, and even taking\nliberties with his velvety ears. What was the use of a Black Past, if it\ndid not protect one from such unwelcome familiarities?\n\nTom, Dick and Harry, as usual, were charmed with the situation; for they\ndearly loved any sort of a demonstration in which they could figure\nconspicuously. Tom, ever anxious to be in the public eye, glanced about\nand, seeing the United States Marshal, who was known to be an ardent\nadmirer of the Allan and Darling team, jumped upon him, demanding\nrecognition, which was cordially granted.\n\nBaldy, to whom the whole episode was trying in the extreme, did not even\nresent this little play for favor in official circles, so anxious was he\nto be over the ordeal, and out in the open speeding away toward the dark\nand frowning cliffs of Cape Nome, in the dim distance.\n\nTwo teams at intervals of ten minutes had started before them, and there\nwere three others to follow.\n\nAs it was only sixty-five miles to Solomon and back, Allan decided to\ntry to pass the teams in front, even if he acted as trail-breaker and\npace-maker; for there was no necessity in so short a race for\ngeneralship in the matter of feeding and resting.\n\nShortly after they left Fort Davis, four miles down the coast, they\ncould see John Johnson ahead, and still beyond him a rapidly moving dot\nwhich Allan knew to be Fred Ayer with his \"Ayeroplanes,\" as the Woman\nhad dubbed them; facetiously, but with a certain trepidation. For that\nsplendid team had been successful in many of the shorter races, and bade\nfair to develop into dangerous antagonists in the longer ones.\n\nBut the Allan and Darling dogs, urged on constantly by \"Scotty,\" went\nforward at an even gait that soon lessened the space between themselves\nand the Siberians; when, having passed them, they gained perceptibly\nupon the others.\n\nThe \"Ayeroplanes\" seemed almost to float along the surface of the snow,\nso light and smooth was their pace, so harmonious their team action.\n\nBut as if impelled by a hidden force he had never felt before, Baldy\nsturdily forged on and on, till they, too, were left behind. A new\nfervor thrilled him as he determined to show that he was more than \"just\ndog.\" No understudy on the stage, given an unexpected opportunity, ever\ndesired more ardently to eclipse the star than did Baldy to fill poor\nKid's place.\n\nHow they flew over the ground; how exhilarating the air; how light the\nsled. And then it suddenly dawned upon Baldy that the sled was too\nlight. When Allan was not running behind with a tight grasp on the\nhandle-bars, he was usually perched at the back on the projecting\nrunners; and for some time the dog had not noticed this additional\nweight. Then, too, he was beginning to miss his master's voice--\"Hi,\nthere, Tom, Dick, Harry, snowbirds in sight; rabbits, Spot; road house,\nBarney.\" Of course all of the dogs knew perfectly well that it was only\na joke; that snowbirds, rabbits and road houses are things that do not\nconcern you at all when you are being driven in a race. But they enjoyed\nthe little pleasantry, nevertheless, and it gave them delightful\nsubjects to think about that might become possibilities when they were\nnot in harness.\n\nIf \"Scotty\" was not addressing them personally, he was often singing\nbits of Scotch ballads, or whistling scraps of rag-time, which was\nwonderfully cheering, and gave them a sense of companionship with him.\n\nAt last the instinct that all was not right was too strong for Baldy.\nStopping suddenly, he looked back and discovered that they were\ndriverless.\n\nHe realized that such halts were most unwise; but the team without Allan\nwas as a ship without a Captain and to Baldy there was but one thing to\ndo--to find \"Scotty\" at all hazards.\n\nFor an instant there was danger of a mutiny amongst the dogs. Tom, Dick\nand Harry tacitly agreed that it was a marvelous chance to make that\nsnowbird joke a charming reality; there was a stirring of McMillan's\nfiery blood, for he still admitted but one source of control; a plump\nfluffy hare, scurrying by within range of Spot's young eyes inspired him\nwith a desire to give chase, as once again he quite forgot the grave\nimportance of filling a position in a racing team.\n\nBut Baldy, knowing that the time for action had come, that his supremacy\nas a leader must be acknowledged, and at once, firmly held his ground.\nTurning, he faced them fearlessly. There was a low ominous growl, a\nsmouldering light in his strange, somber eyes, a baring of his sharp\nwhite fangs. Yet it was something else, a something in the very nature\nof the dog, in his steadfast spirit, his indomitable will, that made the\nothers feel in some subtle, final way that they must obey him. So when\nhe swung round they followed him as unswervingly as they would have\nfollowed Kid.\n\nFar away in the whiteness, Baldy saw a black spot toward which he sped\nwith mad impatience. It grew more and more distinct, till, beside it, he\nsaw that it was his master, lying pale, motionless and blood-stained in\nthe trail. From a deep gash on his head a crimson stream oozed and\nfroze, matting his hair and the fur on his parka.\n\nBaldy stopped short, quivering with an unknown dread. There was\nsomething terrifying in the tense body, so still, so mute. He licked the\npallid face, the cold hands, and placed a gentle paw upon the man's\nbreast, scratching softly to see if he could not gain some response.\nThere was no answer to his loving appeal; and throwing back his head,\nthere broke from him the weird, wild wail of the Malamute, his\ninheritance from some wolf ancestor. The other dogs joined the mournful\nchorus, and then, as it died away, he tried again and again to rouse his\nsilent master.\n\nMoment after moment passed, the time seemed endless; but finally the\nwarm tongue and the insistent paw did their work; for there was a slight\nmovement, a flicker of the eyelids, and then \"Scotty\" lifted himself\nupon his elbow and spoke to them.\n\nHe was hopelessly confused. What was he doing in the snow, in the bitter\ncold, soaked in blood, and with his team beside him? Where was Kid?\n\nThen it all came back to him; he remembered he was in a race--the\nSolomon Derby, and Kid was dead. That with Baldy in the lead they had\ngone ahead of the other teams at a terrific speed, when he heard\nsomething snap. Thinking it might be a runner, he had leaned over the\nside of the sled to look; there was a crushing blow, and he recalled no\nmore until he felt Baldy's hot breath, and an agonizing pain in his\ntemple.\n\nGazing about, he saw the cause of the mishap--an iron trail stake half\nconcealed by a drift, now red with his blood. All around, as far as the\neye could reach, stretched the vast snowy plains that merged into the\npurple shadows of the distant mountains, outlined in dazzling beauty\nagainst the azure sky. There was no sign of the other teams. He could\nnot tell how long he had been unconscious--whether minutes or hours; he\nonly realized that he had never entered Solomon.\n\nWeakly he stumbled to his feet and fell helplessly into the sled. At a\nword Baldy darted ahead, and Allan, wiping the blood from his eyes, saw\nthey were traveling in the wrong direction, toward the wireless tower at\nPort Safety. In some way he dimly realized that the dogs had turned on\nthe trail. Given the order, Baldy wheeled instantly, and dashed forward\nwith no slackening of his former speed, though \"Scotty\" was lying inert\nand useless, an unusual and unexpected burden.\n\nBut, wounded and shaken, \"Scotty's\" spirit was still undaunted; and\nuncertain of anything save that you are never beaten till the race is\nover, Allan inspired Baldy to do his willing best.\n\nThe bitter disappointment of Kid's death was fast yielding to amazement\nat Baldy's unsuspected fleetness. Trustworthy he had always been, and\nobedient and faithful--but his pace now was a revelation. There was yet\na chance.\n\n\"On, Baldy; on boys.\" And away they flew till the roofs of Solomon\nloomed on the horizon, directly ahead.\n\nSolomon at last. At the end of the one short street was a group of\nKennel Club officials, and the entire population of the place, ready to\nwelcome the coming and speed the parting racers.\n\nTo his intense surprise Allan learned that his was the first team in,\nhis delay having evidently been but a brief one. He resisted all\nentreaties that he should have medical attention. \"There's no trouble at\nall,\" he maintained stoutly, \"so long as my cap is frozen to the wound.\nOf course I am a little faint, and dizzy, but that will pass in the\nfresh air. Just water the dogs and see that they're all right, will\nyou?\" And resting only the five minutes that are obligatory for the\nsigning of papers, he was again on his way, as Fred Ayer came into view,\nclosely followed by Johnson.\n\nReturning, it seemed as if Kid himself could not have excelled Baldy in\nthe management of the team--all of his latent powers developing to meet\nthe great demands made upon him. He was proving himself indeed a leader.\n\nThe news of the mishap had been telephoned to Nome; and the usual\nenthusiasm over the first arrival was turned into an ovation for the\nplucky and popular little Scotchman.\n\nWith the loss of the best dog in the Kennel, on the eve of the race, and\nan obscure, untried dog in the lead; with a stunning blow that had left\nhim alone and senseless on the trail he was still victorious, to the\nadmiration of all Nome.\n\nThe excitement was intense as the cheering throngs closed in upon the\ndogs and their driver, ready and eager to give their hearty greetings\nand unstinted applause.\n\n[Illustration: AN OVATION FOR THE PLUCKY LITTLE SCOTCHMAN]\n\nMoose Jones and Ben hurried toward the winners, both overjoyed at the\nsuccess of Allan and their favorite, Baldy.\n\n\"Some dog, Baldy o' Golconda, ain't he, Mart?\" was Jones's exultant\ncomment as they passed Barclay, who stood regarding the heroes with\nill-concealed contempt.\n\n\"Some accident!\" retorted Mart. \"There'll be a fine day,\"\nbelligerently, \"when 'Scotty' Allan'll find out that there dog's a fake,\na reg'lar quitter. Jest now he's bluffed you all inter thinkin' him a\nwonder; but you wait an' he'll give himself away yet. He was ornery as a\npup, an' he's ornery as a dog. You can't make a silk purse outen a sow's\near, an' I tell you straight you can't make a Sweepstakes Winner out o'\nBaldy o' Golconda, no matter what he done in this here measly Solomon\nhike.\"\n\n\"Well, we'll see, Mart.\"\n\n\"You've won a great race,\" exclaimed the Woman as she came forward with\nthe Big Man, and grasped \"Scotty's\" hand warmly; \"a great race, and\nagainst heavy odds.\"\n\nBut \"Scotty,\" looking down on Baldy with gratitude and pride, replied\nsimply:\n\n\"No, the credit all belongs to good old Baldy here; it is his race, not\nmine.\"\n\nThen the Woman, kneeling in the snow beside the leader, with her arms\nabout him, said softly, \"It was wonderful, Baldy, simply wonderful, the\nway you saved the day.\"\n\nAnd so the Solomon Derby was over, and Baldy had made good.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nOne Summer\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nONE SUMMER\n\n\nThe winning of the Solomon Derby marked a new era in Baldy's life. His\nhome-coming had been made both joyous and miserable by the various\nattentions he had received. With his sensitive, shrinking nature, it was\na sore trial to be the center of attraction, and the object of constant\ndiscussion. \"Scotty\" had warmly commended his record to Ben Edwards,\nwhich was compensation even for the Woman's newly awakened and frankly\nexpressed admiration. She had almost wept on his neck, which was\nembarrassing for an undemonstrative dog, and said he deserved a Carnegie\nMedal--whatever that was--though she suggested, practically, a large\njuicy beefsteak as an immediate compromise.\n\nThe neighbors conceded generously that it was more than they had\nexpected of an \"old grouch.\" George Allan and Danny Kelly, from out\ntheir superior wisdom in dog affairs, agreed that while improbable, it\nhad never been impossible for a freighter to develop into a racer under\nfavorable conditions. While most gratifying of all, Dubby came in to\nexpress, with strenuous waggings of his stubby but eloquent tail, his\nsurprise and satisfaction that a member of a purely sporting fraternity\nhad distinguished himself so highly; had acted, in fact, in a manner\nworthy of a dependable huskie. And Baldy, knowing that Dubby had himself\nand his unblemished career in mind, felt that this was indeed the climax\nof approval.\n\nGradually he was coming to realize that through his unremitting efforts\nto be of service, and because of real worth, there was an attitude of\nkindly interest manifested toward him that had taken the place of the\ncovert criticism and careless indifference that had once caused him so\nmuch sorrow.\n\n\"Now that he's led once,\" confided Ben to George and Dan, \"I don't\nbelieve Baldy'll ever be satisfied again t' stay in the wheel. It seems\nt' me that every minute he's awake he's tryin' t' do better in his work.\nThat race kinda roused him in every way.\"\n\n\"He'll never have to stay in the wheel,\" observed \"Scotty.\" \"The Derby\nwas a revelation to me in regard to Baldy. I confess frankly I didn't\nthink he was capable of the ability he showed that day and,\" with a\nsmiling glance toward the Woman, \"there were those of less faith than\nmine who were completely won over.\"\n\n\"If you mean me,\" she rejoined, \"you are quite right. I've apologized to\nBen and Baldy every day since the Derby. I have even admitted that\nBaldy's legs are as good as Jack McMillan's, if not better. Could\nhumility go further in making amends?\"\n\nAnd Baldy, who now saw the world through different and more friendly\neyes, learned that even the Woman was not wholly lacking in a certain\nsense of discrimination as she had proved when she had felt the muscles\nof his sturdy body and spanned the width of his broad chest with\nunqualified approval.\n\nAfter a complete rest of a week or more, the training began again; for\nthere was yet to be held the most important event of the year--the All\nAlaska Sweepstakes, which takes place early in April.\n\nThe runs were much longer and harder than the preliminary dashes for the\nSolomon Race; and sometimes they went back even to the Mountains which\nrose, rugged and majestic, from the endless white wastes to a sky\nbrilliantly blue in the dazzling Arctic sunshine, or sodden and gray in\na storm.\n\nTotally different in temperament and methods from Kid and Dubby, Baldy\nmanifested, nevertheless, many of the fundamental qualities that had so\ndistinguished those wonderful leaders. And in communion with \"Scotty\" in\ntheir long hours of exercise, he not only began to understand the speech\nand the touch of his hand, but also his unexpressed moods. He knew when\nAllan was care-free, and satisfied with the team, or was discouraged by\nsome unexpected act of stupidity or disobedience, though no syllable was\nspoken.\n\nNot long before the Big Race, several unfortunate things happened in\nthe Kennel to make Allan believe it was, as the \"Wonder Workers\"\nsolemnly declared it, a \"Hoodoo\" year for the dogs. Rover wrenched his\nshoulder in a friendly tussle with one of the Mego pups, Tom cut his\nfoot badly on a bit of broken glass, and Baldy developed a severe cold\nthat made him feverish and short of breath.\n\nIt seemed at first as if they might not be able to enter a team at all,\nso many accidents combined against them; but the lure of the contest was\ntoo much for \"Scotty.\" \"We'll do our best. Lots of teams go in that are\nno stronger than ours at its weakest, and every entry that drops out\nmakes it less interesting. Then don't forget the luck of the trail, in\nwhich you believe so thoroughly. Remember the Solomon Derby.\"\n\n\"I don't believe in working luck over time,\" she answered. \"However, if\nyou really think it would make any difference in the sport, of course\nwe'll go in. I know you can do better,\" confidently, \"with a poor team\nthan most men with a good one.\"\n\nBut \"Scotty\" shook his head decidedly. \"Don't think it. Our antagonists\nare all that they should be--men and dogs--and the most careful\ndriving will not always overcome the weakness of the team.\"\n\nSince the driver may use his own discretion as to the length and\nfrequency of the stops to be made, he must have the ability to realize\nexactly how much rest he may take himself and give his dogs without the\nunnecessary loss of a moment. He must know what the other teams have\ndone, and are capable of doing; he must drive his own race, and he must\nknow how the other men are driving theirs. He must decide wisely how\nmany dogs it is well to use--that matter also being optional with him.\nFor it is an important point to select enough dogs to keep up to the\nrequired standard, yet not too many for good team work, in which\nindividual peculiarities have been merged in general harmony of action.\n\nNo precaution is neglected to insure the comfort of the contestants.\nCommissary teams sent out by the Kennel Club leave supplies at all of\nthe Road Houses and camps that are to be used as rest stations--drugs\nfor emergencies, and all sorts of luxuries that would be too bulky to be\ncarried in the racing sleds, but which are shared impartially at the\ndifferent stops.\n\nEach man must be certain of the best food for his dogs, and the length\nof time it takes to digest it. The usual diet of the Allan and Darling\nRacers, rolled oats, dried salmon, and the oily nutritious flesh of the\nwhite whale, with a proper amount of bone, now was changed to chopped\nbeef and mutton, cooked with eggs. This was put up in hermetically\nsealed tins, with enough in each for a feeding; and every dog's\nallowance wrapped separately in muslin so that there might be no loss of\ntime in dividing it into portions.\n\nAnd in all of these things \"Scotty\" Allan was a past master. Yet in\nspite of his efforts and skill, they came in not first, but second;\nwhich was, according to George and Dan, \"not so worse for a scrub team,\"\nand according to Ben, \"mighty good considerin' they didn't have Baldy.\"\n\nThese days of ceaseless striving and untiring patience had been of great\nbenefit to Baldy. He no longer experienced despair over such a Kennel\nmisfortune; but cheerfully resolved that each failure must be a\nstepping-stone, not a stumbling-block, in the march toward success.\n\nThere was one real sorrow that came to him that spring--a sorrow shared\nby many--which swept away the passing regret for the lost race. Dubby,\nfull of years and honors, was dead, mourned by all. His obituary in the\nnewspapers not only testified that he was generally beloved, but was one\nthat many a man might be proud to deserve. \"Alaska's Most Famous Leader\nPasses Away.\" What untold stories of marvelous intelligence, of\nunfaltering allegiance, of loving service lay in those simple words.\n\nBaldy missed Dubby sorely, for there had grown a firm bond of sympathy\nbetween them. The old huskie had learned that a character may dignify a\ncalling, and that a true heart often beats beneath a racing harness;\nwhile Baldy had long since discovered that Dubby's aloofness was but the\ninevitable loneliness of a Dog that has had his Day.\n\nTo divert his mind from sad memories, Baldy would go to look at Mego's\ntwelve, beautiful, fat new puppies, and then would dream of a\ncomfortable serene old age when he would be given the tutoring of such\npromising youngsters, and help to make them winners of future All Alaska\nSweepstakes.\n\nThen came the summer, and with it the play-time for the Kennel; a\nsummer filled with ever changing interests and pleasures.\n\n\"I'll be glad, 'Scotty,'\" said Moose Jones, \"t' keep till fall as many\ndogs as you don't want in Nome. It's kinda hard t' have 'em tied up in\nthe fine weather, an' dogs like yours can't run 'round the streets\nloose. Ben an' me's goin' t' be out t' Golconda, where I've got a crew\no' men at work. You may 'a' heerd I bought Golconda a few weeks ago, an'\nI'm goin' t' mine there this season. Sold my ground over t' Marshall t'\na New York Syndicate that was nosin' round pretty sharp before I left;\nand it's give me money enough t' take up this here property. Then I\nleased my Dime Creek holdin's on royalties, an' that'll put me on my\nfeet even ef this Golconda claim ain't all I think. But I done a lot o'\nprospectin' there once, an' it sure looks promisin'; an' besides it's\nright next t' the Midas, an' fer the last couple years or more Barclay\nhas been takin' out wonderful pay there.\"\n\n\"I'd be glad to have you keep Baldy, Irish and Rover for us if you\nwill,\" replied Allan cordially. \"George and Spot are inseparable in\nvacation times, and McMillan,\" with a nod toward the Woman's house,\n\"seems to be under the impression, now that he is not in training, that\nhe is a lap dog, and rarely comes to the Kennel at all. Matt will take\nthe rest of them up to his cabin on Penny River, where they will have\nall the exercise they want, and great fun hunting. You know I never have\na moment for them in summer, as it is our busy season in the office,\"\nand Allan, who was Secretary in the Big Man's Company, gave a sigh as he\nrealized that not until autumn would come again the happy Dog Days.\n\nTo Baldy it was a period of perfect joy--to be with Ben Edwards and\nMoose Jones in the glorious freedom of the open country in the far\nhills. Here the dogs did what their fancies dictated. They swam,\nunmolested, in the ditch; ran for miles with their chum, the dappled\ngray horse; gave chase to saucy, chattering squirrels, and even fished\nso successfully that they were the admiration of all the camps about.\n\nIrish and Baldy would stand in the riffles of a stream, and Rover,\nleaping into the pools and quiet waters, would drive the fish up into\nthe shallows, where they were seized by his two companions, taken ashore\nand dropped on the bank. Then they returned for more, keeping up the\nsport till a bird in flight or some other fascinating moving creature\nlured them away in a spirited pursuit through thick willows and across\ngreen marsh-lands.\n\nAt night they slept, if they chose, in the Bunk House; and ate without\nrestriction such mysterious delicacies as cake and pastries.\n\nNo longer was Baldy ignored by the men, nor did it now take the threats\nof Moose Jones to prevent the petty annoyances to which he had been\nsubjected formerly; for in winning the Solomon Derby he had proved his\nworth and they were glad to give him well-earned praise.\n\nOccasionally there would be a dissenter from the general admiration of\nthe dog. Black Mart, who sometimes came over from the Midas, never\nfailed to belittle the record he had made. \"It's no test, that short\nmush t' Solomon, an' it don't prove nothin'. Why, I've seen teams that\ncould do wonders in that there run that couldn't git as fur as Council\nin the Big Race without goin' t' pieces. It takes somethin' more'n a\nslinkin' half-breed like him t' lead a winnin' team in the Sweepstakes.\"\n\nAnd Moose would retort sarcastically, \"Mart, ef you was as good a judge\no' dogs as dogs is o' you--stop growlin' at him, Baldy--you'd have a\nwinnin' team in yourself, instead o' just jawin' about it.\"\n\nOne man's enmity mattered but little, however, in the general\nfriendliness Baldy experienced; and there were so many glorious things\nto offset those infrequent encounters with the one person he\ninstinctively regarded with aversion.\n\nEncouraging news had come from Dime Creek, and Golconda was proving rich\nbeyond the highest expectations of Jones; and many happy hours did he\nand Ben spend in plans for the boy's future; a future that now seemed\nnear and bright.\n\n\"Even without Golconda, Ben,\" Moose would exclaim confidently, \"I've got\nenough salted away from them other deals to put you through all the book\nlearnin' you'll need t' make a reg'lar spell-bindin' lawyer o' you like\nFink, er a way up Judge, mebbe in Washington. An' with Golconda,--well,\nSonny, that there Arabian Nights chap that she was tellin' you about\nwouldn't have nothin' on us fer adventure, an' doin' good turns to folks\nunbeknownst, an' all that kind o' stuff,\" and Moose Jones would pat\nthe boy's shoulder affectionately.\n\nEvery week or so Baldy, with Irish and Rover and some of the Wild Goose\ndogs from the Grand Central Ditch House near, would be hitched to a flat\ncar belonging to the place, and would have a trip into town with Moose\nto take the gold dust from the \"clean-ups\" to the bank.\n\nThe car coasted down all the hills, for there was a strong brake to keep\nit safe. And the dogs were either invited to ride with Jones, or were\npermitted to get to the bottom as best pleased them with Ben, which\nmeant a scamper through fields of blue forget-me-nots and purple lupine,\nover damp and mossy dells, and along the slopes where tiny birds were\nhidden in cozy nests about which the frightened parents fluttered\ndivertingly.\n\n[Illustration: THE CAR COASTED DOWN ALL THE HILLS]\n\nIt was indeed a treat; for always at the end of the jaunt there was an\ninterview with \"Scotty\" Allan, who was sure to look Baldy over carefully\nand say fondly, \"Well, how's my Derby hero to-day?\" and give the\nexpected hearty greetings to Irish and Rover. Or possibly there would be\na brief visit to the Woman, who, whatever her faults, never failed to\nproduce a tid-bit of some sort for her canine callers.\n\nShe and Ben would dwell with keen delight upon his prospects of\nattaining his ambitions. \"And besides all Moose will do for you,\" she\nannounced one day, \"Mr. Daly tells me he will be only too glad to be of\nany assistance possible. He thinks a boy with your ideal--Lincoln--should\nhave all the help it is in his power to give.\"\n\nOf course, surfeited at last with luxury and idleness, the dogs would\nfinally be eager to return to the duties of the winter; glad of the\nseason that brings the cheery sound of bells, the joyous barks of\nrecognition from passing friends, the snarl of challenge from passing\nenemies, and all of the wholesome pleasures that belong to a busy,\nuseful life. But now they were quite care-free, and content, and the\nresponsibilities of the winter seemed far away indeed.\n\nBut the most treasured moments of all to Baldy were those spent with Ben\nwhen, waiting for Moose to finish his evening's tasks, he and the boy\nwandered along the winding banks of the ditch. Far away across the sedgy\ntundra lay the sea, a line of molten gold in the last rays of the\nbelated June sunset. Behind them rose the snow-crested peaks of the\nSawtooth Mountains, like frosted spires against an amber sky. Soon the\namber would change to amethyst and deepen to purple--fading at last to a\nshadowy gray; and all the world seemed steeped in the mystic calm of\nthose twilight hours before the early Northern dawn.\n\nAnd in those hours the brooding stillness of nature was broken only by\nthe voice of man; for it was then, in that vast solitude, that from the\nlips of Ben Edwards came ringing words, sonorous sentences, impassioned\nappeals.\n\nBaldy did not know it, but he was at such times a learned Judge moved\nstrangely by unexpected eloquence; a jury melted to tears by a touching\nplea for clemency; a Populace swayed to great deeds by a silver-tongued\nOrator. Even, on rare occasions, he was the Loyal Throng that stood,\nsilent and uncovered, before the White House steps, thrilled by the\nfiery patriotism of Mr. Edwards, the President of the United States of\nAmerica.\n\nThen, he was just Baldy, a faithful loving dog that trotted happily at\nthe heels of the ragged little boy whose unselfishness had given him\nthe great chance of his life.\n\nThere was no faltering in the devotion of boy or dog. They believed in\neach other.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nThe Great Race\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE GREAT RACE\n\n\nAnother winter had come and gone, and again it was the day of the Great\nRace.\n\nNever had the time passed so quickly to Baldy, for he had now become a\ndistinguished member of The Team, for whom every one, even the Woman,\nentertained a real respect, and to whom all of the dogs turned readily\nas to their acknowledged leader.\n\nThe Allan and Darling Racers were ready for the event.\n\nThere was an early stir in the Kennel, and all was hurry and bustle. The\nWoman came in with the Big Man, the Allan girls, and Ben Edwards, who\nhelped her tie knots of white and gold on the front of the sled, on the\ncollars of the racing dogs, and on other members of the family, about\nforty in all, who were old enough to appreciate the attention. Even the\nYellow Peril apparently considered it an honor, for which he waited with\nunaccustomed patience.\n\nThe preparations were almost complete; and \"Scotty\" was everywhere,\nsuperintending the minute details, upon the completeness of which so\nmuch might depend.\n\nBirdie was, in the confusion, about to borrow Mego's puppies and take\nthem out for an airing. Fisher, delighted that he was not of the elect,\nbasked in a warm and secluded corner; while Jemima, frantic to be a part\nof the team, was restrained forcibly by Matt, and placed in solitary\nconfinement.\n\nEven Texas, for whom the Kennel had lost its charm--and safety--since\nthe death of old Dubby, followed the Allan girls, and was treated to a\nbecoming bow of the racing colors.\n\nMatt brought out the long tow-line, and placed it carefully on the\nfloor.\n\n\"Rex and McMillan in the wheel, like we've been usin' 'em, I suppose?\"\nand at a nod he released them.\n\n\"Wheel, Jack; wheel, Rex,\" and they took their accustomed places next\nthe sled, and remained motionless, yet keenly alert. \"Tom and Dick,\nHarry and Tracy, Irish and Rover\"--name after name was called, and each\ndog stepped into position with joyful alacrity. They were, one and all,\nsturdy, intelligent, and spirited; with the stamina of their wild\nforebears, and the devoted nature of those dogs who have for generations\nbeen trained to willing service and have been faithful friends to their\nmasters.\n\n\"Scotty's\" eyes rested upon them with justifiable pride. \"I think,\" he\nannounced happily, \"that in all my years of racing I have never had so\nfine a team; so many dogs I can count upon in every way.\" And then came\nthe expected order, \"Baldy in the lead, Matt.\"\n\nThere was an imperceptible pause--- just long enough for him to brush\nsoftly against Ben Edwards, and look up lovingly into a beaming\nface--and then Baldy stood at the head of the Allan and Darling Racing\nTeam, a \"likely Sweepstakes Winner,\" as the Daily Dog News had once\nironically predicted.\n\nBaldy felt that now, if ever, had come his Day; the Day of which he had\ndreamed in his despised puppy-hood; the Day in which he could prove that\nthe great dog man's confidence was not misplaced, and that the boy's\nbelief was well founded.\n\nAt last they stood, every detail of equipment perfect, while \"Scotty\"\nglanced once more over his small kit in the sled; green veils for the\ndog's eyes should the glare of the sun prove too troublesome, little\nblankets, canton flannel moccasins for their feet in case of sharp ice,\nand extra bits of harness--all stowed safely away, including his own fur\nparka and water-tight boots.\n\nMatt regarded the team critically, and while filled with a sober\nsatisfaction, was much relieved to hear that it had the unqualified\napproval of the experts, George and Dan. \"Of course Spot 'ud make a\nclassier leader, Dan, but I'm the only one that can really handle him\nyet, so I guess Baldy's best for Dad.\"\n\nThe Woman waited to give each dog a parting caress and a word of\nencouragement. \"Tom, Dick and Harry, remember you're the Veterans, and\nhave an honorable record to maintain; Irish and Rover, never forget that\nyou _are_ Irish, and live up to all that it means; McMillan, it's your\nchance to wipe out the past; and Baldy--well, Baldy, 'Scotty,' we all,\ntrust you.\" And then she turned and pinned the last knot of white and\ngold on Allan's breast, and her voice trembled as she said, \"Success to\nour colors.\"\n\nThrough the narrow streets, gay with the fluttering streamers of the\nKennel Club gold and green, they went. Banners and pennants shone\nresplendent under the cloudless blue of the April sky; and the crowds in\nhigh spirits and gala attire, eager and laughing, closed in upon them\ntill Baldy longed to howl in sheer fright, though howling in harness is\nstrictly forbidden by \"Scotty,\" and would have been quite out of keeping\nwith the august dignity of his position. He was appalled by such a solid\nmass of human beings--for of course the courts, schools, and business\nhouses were all closed in honor of this important occasion; and probably\nthe only people in all of Nome not bending their steps toward the\nstarting place were those unavoidably detained in the hospital or jail.\n\nWomen who would not have been out of place on Fifth Avenue or Bond\nStreet, women to whom even the French Poodle would have given his\napproval; men of the West in flannel shirts and cowboy hats; miners\nfrom the Creeks, gathered from all corners of the Earth; Eskimos in\ntheir furs with tiny babies strapped on their backs; rosy-cheeked\nchildren--all hurried to the point where the long journey was to begin.\n\nNomie was everywhere, barking delightedly, and giving each team an\nimpartial greeting.\n\nOolik Lomen with his latest doll, acquired that very morning from some\ncareless mother more intent upon sporting affairs than domestic duties,\nparaded superciliously up and down, plainly bored by the proceedings;\nbut attending because it was the correct thing to do.\n\nWhat a relief it was to reach the open space on the ice of Bering Sea,\nin front of the town, where the fast gathering multitudes were being\nheld back by ropes, and kept in line by Marshals in trappings of the\nclub colors.\n\nPresently the merry jingle of bells, and loud shouts, announced the\napproach of the Royal Sled. Covered with magnificent wolf robes, and\ndrawn by twelve young men, fur-clad from head to foot--her \"human\nhuskies\"--the Queen of the North dashed up to the Royal Box, where,\nsurrounded by her ten pretty maids of honor, like her clad in rare furs\nof Arctic design and fashioning, she was given an imposing reception by\nthe judges and directors of the Kennel Club.\n\nIn one hand the Queen carried a quaintly carved scepter of ivory, made\nfrom a huge walrus tusk, and in the other the American Flag at whose dip\nwould begin once more the struggle for the supremacy of the trail. A\nsupremacy which is not merely the winning of the purse and cup, but is\nthe conquering of the obstacles and terrors that beset the trackless\nwastes--a defiance of the elements, a triumph of human nature over\nnature.\n\nThere was the sound of many voices; small boys, scarcely out of\npinafores, discussed with a surprising amount of knowledge the merits of\nthe individual dogs and the capabilities of their drivers; little girls\ndonned ribbons with a sportsman-like disregard of their \"becomingness\"\nto show a preference which might be based either on a personal fondness\nfor a driver or owner, or a loving interest in some particular dog.\nWhile men and women, who on the Outside would be regarded as far beyond\nan age when such an event would have an intense interest for them, here\nmanifest an allegiance so loyal that at times it threatens to disrupt\nfriendships, if not families.\n\nThe babble increased in volume, for the first team had drawn up between\nthe stands to wait for the final moment, and Charles Johnson stood\nready, with his noted Siberians, to begin the contest. They made a\ncharming appearance, and their admirers were many and enthusiastic.\n\n\"Ten seconds,\" was called; unconsciously all voices were hushed. \"Five\nseconds!\" The silence was broken only by the restless moving of the\npeople and the barking of the excited dogs.\n\nThen the clock struck ten, and simultaneously the stirring strains of\nthe trumpet ended the spell that held the crowd in breathless attention.\nThe men released the dogs, the flag in the hand of the Queen fluttered,\nthen fell, and the first team in the greatest race in the world had \"hit\nthe Trail for Candle,\" while cheer after cheer followed its swift flight\nbetween the long lines of eager faces and waving colors.\n\nIn the pause that ensued an impatient voice rose in insistent demand.\n\"What are you waiting for? Bring on your Fidos,\" and then as \"Scotty\"\nAllan appeared and stood with difficulty holding the spirited Allan\nand Darling dogs, the same voice asked in tones of utter disdain, \"Whose\nmangy Fidos are these?\" He was evidently a stranger, and in favor of the\ntrim Siberians, scorning the rangy \"Lop-ears,\" as they are sometimes\ncalled in derision.\n\n[Illustration: SCOTTY ALLAN ON THE TRAIL]\n\nBut whatever type may please their fancy, the faithfulness of all, and\nthe skill of each driver appeals to these Northerners, most of whom know\nwell the hardships of this ultimate frontier. So that their wild\nenthusiasm seems not so much a question of personality as a spontaneous\ntribute to the energy and courage of the men, and the patient\nwillingness of the dogs.\n\nAllan's selection of dogs had caused much adverse criticism, but Matt\nwarmly defended his choice. \"You can't tell me that Tom, Dick and\nHarry's stale from too much trainin' an' bein' in too many races. I know\nbetter; an' you can be certain that 'Scotty' wouldn't have taken 'em if\nthey was goin' t' be a drag on such wonders as Irish, Rover and Spot.\nTake my word for it, them old Pioneers is goin' t' be the back-bone o'\nthe hull team when the youngsters has wore themselves out.\"\n\nA few who did not believe in the sincerity or stability of Jack\nMcMillan's reformation predicted trouble because of his presence. As a\nleader he had twice utterly demoralized teams in previous races, and it\nwas \"not unlikely,\" declared the prophets of evil, \"that he would blow\nup on the Trail out of pure cussedness.\"\n\n\"Well, it ain't McMillan, ner Tom, Dick ner Harry that's goin' t' lose\nthis here race fer the Allan an' Darling team,\" exclaimed Mart Barclay\nwith vicious conviction. \"It's that there cur leader they got--Baldy.\nThere's enough Scotch stubbornness in Allan t' try to make a leader\nouten a cur jest becus folks said he couldn't. Up in Dawson I heered\nonce he trained a timber wolf t' lead a team o' McKenzie huskies; but\nhe'd find that a heap easier 'n puttin' the racin' sperit inter that\nlow-down Golconda hound; an' I'll bet he'll git all that's comin' t' him\nthis time fer his pains.\"\n\n\"Ef you're bettin' on that, Mart,\" quickly interposed Moose Jones, \"I've\ngot some dust from my Golconda claim that's lyin' round loose at the\nMiners and Merchants Bank, an' five hundred of it says that\nyou're--well, seem' as there's ladies present, it says you're _mistaken_\nabout Baldy's sperit. You see my friend, Ben Edwards here, is kinda\nfiggerin' on college some day after a while, an' a little loose change\nwouldn't hurt none. It might come in right handy fer all the extry\nthings boys wants, like fancy clothes an' flat-faced bulldogs. I guess\nBen wouldn't want one o' them, though, after he's owned a dog like\nBaldy. But he could use a thousand in lots o' ways easy--my money an'\nyourn.\"\n\n\"Double it,\" sneered Mart.\n\n\"Done,\" and those surrounding them witnessed the wager with much\napplause; while the boy, clinging to the rough hand of his companion,\nwhispered tremulously, \"Oh, Moose, I won't want any extras when I go to\ncollege. It's enough to just go. But I do want Baldy t' win, though.\"\n\n\"Ten seconds; five seconds.\" The dogs were mad to be off, but Allan's\nwarning command, \"Steady, boys, steady,\" kept them quiet, though they\nwere quivering with eagerness; all except Baldy, who again seemed\nplainly panic-stricken, and wildly glanced from side to side as if\nsearching for some loophole of escape.\n\nFive minutes past ten. Once more the flag dipped, the signal for them to\nstart was given, and \"Scotty's\"\n\n\"All right, boys, go,\" was music to their listening ears; as leaping\nforward with one accord, amidst renewed cries of encouragement and\nadmiration, the defenders of the White and Gold sped far out over the\nfrozen sea, where they, too, were headed for the Arctic.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nFor the Supremacy of the Trail\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nFOR THE SUPREMACY OF THE TRAIL\n\n\nSlowly the people returned to town after every team had received an\novation; for none was too partisan to give a hearty \"God Speed\" to all\nof the men and all of the dogs in the race--and favorites were, for the\nmoment, forgotten.\n\nEach day had brought word from the Outside that the Great Race was not\nforgotten by the Alaskans in sunnier lands; and because of this the\nexcitement, as well as the purse, had grown apace.\n\nNo one, of course, settled down to anything serious, for business is\npractically suspended during the entire progress of the event, and a\nspirit of revelry is abroad. Formal and informal gatherings serve to\npass the hours, while telephone reports from each village and road house\nare announced in all public places, and bulletins are posted at\nconvenient points for men, women and children, who await the news with\nkeen expectation. The messages come continuously, keeping up the intense\nexcitement from start to finish.\n\nSoon on the Official Bulletin Board at the corner of Lane's way appeared\nthe first, telling that all of the teams had arrived in Solomon,\npractically together, and had left shortly in the bitter wind that blows\nin fierce gusts across the icy lagoons and sleet-swept beach.\n\nThen in the low foot-hills had come milder weather; and the route was\nfairly good, though it lay buried under freshly fallen snow through\nwhich Baldy led, picking his way with unerring precision across the\ntrackless tundra. Now that he was in the open, away from noise and\npeople, he had settled down to a steady gait that promised much for his\nendurance.\n\nSometimes in the glory of the April sunshine they passed other teams, or\nother teams passed them; and sometimes there were hours when two teams\nand possibly more met at the same relay camp.\n\nThere was never a hint here that the men were pitted against one another\nin the fiercest rivalry of the North; for they were ever ready to help\ntheir opponents to patch a broken harness, mend a sled, or care for the\ndogs--just as, on the way, they give fair warning of overflows or other\nobstacles. It is no race for those of weak bodies, mean minds or small\nsouls.\n\nThe dogs, however, carried the idea of rivalry to the point of personal\nenmity, and watched ceaselessly for the opportunity to engage in a\ndiverting row. A row in which they might leave as many wounded on the\nscene as would be caninely possible before human intervention. But this\nwas a vain aspiration; for every precaution was taken to guard against\nfighting, and every leader slept with his driver to insure safety. Dogs,\nlike Death, love a shining mark, and the leaders are usually the real\nvictims of the fray.\n\nThen came Candle, the end of the first half of the race, where the dogs,\nafter being cordially welcomed by the whole town, were checked off by\nthe appointed Judges, and their identification papers signed.\n\n\"Open those tins of dog feed, will you, Rydeen? This is to be their\nfirst big banquet, where they get as much as they can eat,\" said\n\"Scotty\" to one of the friends in the group about him. \"Then if Humber\nand some of the rest will help me, we'll give them a fine alcohol rub in\nno time.\"\n\n\"You'd better do some resting yourself, 'Scotty,'\" they urged, but he\nwould not consider that till he had thoroughly examined the team.\n\nThen, \"McMillan's feet are bruised,\" he exclaimed ruefully. There were\nmany offers of assistance in caring for the dog, which, however, Allan\ngratefully declined. \"He doesn't like having strangers work over him;\nand when he's nervous he becomes headstrong; so I'd better attend to him\nmyself.\"\n\nFrom Candle came the news--\"All teams have left on return trip except\nAllan and Darling.\" And as hour after hour passed and \"Scotty\" had not\nyet started, there was exasperation in the hearts of his backers in\nNome. Exasperation, but not despair; for all remembered when Allan had\ndriven Berger's Brutes to success after a wait so long that all of Nome\nwas in a ferment over the fact that \"Scotty\" had \"slept the race away.\"\nBut he had planned that campaign well; he had figured the possibilities\nof his rivals, and knew that they had exhausted their strength too early\nin the game. And so he had come in first with every other team at least\nsix hours behind; and the cry \"'Scotty's' sleeping the race away at\nCandle\" became the derisive slogan of the Allan clan.\n\n\"Jack McMillan's feet are giving trouble,\" was the response of \"Central\"\nto the frantic inquiries over the long distance telephone as to the\ndelay, \"and 'Scotty's' massaging them with menthalatum.\"\n\nTo the repeated request, and then the demand, that McMillan be put back\ninto the wheel to get along as best he could, there was a moment's\nhesitation and a sweet, but firm, feminine voice replied, \"'Scotty'\nsays\"--a gasp and a pause--\"he says he'll not ruin a faithful dog if\nevery man, woman and child in all Alaska has bet on him. And I think\nhe's just right, too; Jack is a perfect dear,\" and the receiver was hung\nup with a click that admitted of no further argument.\n\nAt last they were off again, five hours behind the others; but when they\ndid leave, the North knew that the sport was on in earnest--for Allan's\npolicy had ever been to do his real driving on the \"home stretch.\"\n\nSoon the languor from the rest, and the heaviness from the food were\nforgotten; and there existed but one dominating, resistless impulse in\ndog and man--the impulse to win.\n\nEven the least responsive dog must then have felt the thrill of the\nfamous race, for never a whip--hardly a word--was necessary to spur them\non.\n\nFrequently the trails were sodden, and often obliterated; soft snow\npiling up like drifts of feathers into fleecy barriers through which the\ndogs, with the aid and encouragement of their Master, fought their way,\ninch by inch. Beyond them lay Death Valley, a dread waste where the dead\nsilence is broken only by the wailing and shrieking of the wind as it\nsweeps down in sudden fury from the sentinel peaks that guard it. Across\nthis Baldy led unswervingly, never hesitating, and hardly relaxing his\nsteady pace, though the sudden gusts from the mountainside often curved\nthe team into a half circle; and he was forced to keep his nose well\ninto the air and brace himself firmly to keep from being carried off his\nfeet.\n\nFurther on came the Glacier Grade, on either side of which rose\noverhanging cliffs. Here the bitter wind of Death Valley became a\nveritable hurricane. Time and again the dogs tried to climb the icy\nslopes and time and again they were hurled back by the fearful buffeting\nof the elements.\n\n\"Scotty\" finally halted them, and with the greatest difficulty succeeded\nin fastening spiked \"creepers\" to his mukluks. Then he tied Baldy to the\nback of his belt by a strong leash. \"Baldy, it's up to us now to get\nthis team through safely--and quickly--\" and bowing his head to the\nstorm he toiled step by step, slipping and sliding, up the perilous\nheights, ten miles to the summit of the range, with the dogs following\nand aiding where they could.\n\nThen came the descent, fraught with more danger still; for the gale bore\ndown upon them so relentlessly that all resistance was useless, and the\ndogs lay flat and were swept along with the sled; while \"Scotty\" stood\nclinging to the brake, and dragging one spiked foot behind in the\ndesperate attempt to act as a human anchor.\n\nAnd at the bottom, quite without warning, they found themselves\nbreaking through the snow into an overflow of a stream, where the water\nhad just come through cracks in the ice to the surface. As they landed\non it with great force it sprayed over them like a fountain; and almost\ninstantly was frozen by the chill of the air.\n\nAllan unhooked them. \"Now, boys, roll and get rid of that ice you've\nbeen making. You're racing dogs, not ice plants.\" They pawed the ice\nfrom their eyes, and thawed it out from between their toes with their\nwarm tongues. And \"Scotty,\" too, was obliged to remove the ice from his\nlashes before he could be sure of his bearings.\n\n\"Now then,\" as they had divested themselves of their glistening coats,\n\"the worst is over, and off we go.\"\n\nAt times the hard smooth trail wound like a silver ribbon under the pale\nglow of the Aurora. Then, with flying feet, they sped along the edge of\ndeep gorges, up steep slopes, and over the glare ice of rivers and\nlakes.\n\nBut the distance between them and the other teams was now gradually\nlessening, and at Timber Road House they had made up half of the time\nlost in Candle. Here they had the next \"big sleep,\" lying on clean straw\non the floor beside Allan, whose closeness calmed their nerves. It was a\ngreat comfort to be able to place a paw on him, or sociably lick his\nhand--for they felt that all was well if they were but within reach of\ntheir master's touch.\n\nThey awoke full of renewed energy. \"Scotty\" was harnessing them for the\nlast long run, with the help of his brother Bill, and Paul Kegsted, who\nhad charge of that relay station for the Kennel Club.\n\n\"Boys,\" he gasped in amazement, \"Baldy's gone lame. He's so stiff he can\nscarcely move. I can't understand it, for he was all right when I turned\nin.\" At the slightest touch the dog winced, and Allan was appalled at\nthe situation.\n\nHe had trained nearly all of the dogs so that they could lead under most\ncircumstances; but this final struggle would require far more than\nordinary ability.\n\nWise old Tom, Dick and Harry, reluctant in the start, had saved\nthemselves until they were most needed; and were now steady and\nreliable, as had been predicted--but they were not leaders for such a\ntrial as this. Irish and Rover were too inexperienced for so much\nresponsibility, Spot was too young, and McMillan too headstrong.\n\n\"Scotty\" was without a leader.\n\nAllan's consternation was echoed in Nome when the report of the mishap\nwas given out--\"Allan practically no hope. Baldy down and out; no other\nleader available. All other teams well ahead in good condition.\"\n\nThere was much diverse, and some heated, comment on the situation. But\nabove the general clamor rose the strident tones of Black Mart, alluding\nwith manifest satisfaction to the fact that Baldy was certainly proving\nhimself a \"quitter\" now.\n\n\"Baldy may be lame, but he is not a quitter,\" denied the Woman\nwrathfully. \"Besides, this race is never won--nor lost--till the first\nteam is in,\" and she turned to comfort Ben Edwards.\n\nHe had been suddenly roused from happy thoughts by this disconcerting\nnews. From his eyes there faded the glorious vision of the great\nUniversity beside the Golden Gate; of the rose-covered cottage where his\nmother would have only pleasant things to do; of Moose Jones in a shiny\nhat and tailed coat receiving the plaudits of a whole State for his\nprincely gifts to its chosen seat of learning--the vision of his own\nsuccess laid upon the altar of love and gratitude. And instead he saw\nonly the distant cabin at Timber, with poor Baldy crippled and\nsuffering, bringing bitter disappointment to his friends; and his heart\nwas filled with grief and longing for the dog.\n\nBlack Mart edged through the throng toward Jones. \"I told you how it 'ud\nbe, Moose; that pet o' yourn ain't comin' through as good as you thought\nhe would when you was so willin' an' anxious t' bet your hard-earned\ndust on him. An' I reckon 'Scotty' Allan ain't so pleased with himself\nfer goin' agin what most ev'rybody said about his usin' that cur fer a\nleader.\"\n\n\"Speakin' o' bets, _an' curs_, Mart, ef you want t' do any more bettin',\nI'm willin't' accommodate you. I'm ready t' back my opinion that\n'Scotty' kin come in first, without a leader, ef you think any ways\ndiffr'ent.\"\n\nBlack Mart glanced again at the Bulletin and read slowly--\"Rubbing tried\nwithout success. Baldy on sled. Irish and Rover probably in lead.\nMcMillan's feet still tender. Another storm coming up. Outlook bad.\"\n\n\"Seems kinda onsportsman like, like bettin' on a sure thing; but ef you\nreally insist, Moose, in the face o' this yere message, why you kin go\nas fur's you like. Mebbe a dollar 'ud suit you better, the way things is\ngoin' now, than a thousand;\" and the people laughed at the covert\nallusion to their previous wager. Moose Jones whitened visibly under his\nthick coat of tan at the insulting manner of his enemy. All of his\nhatred culminated in his desire to show his contempt for Mart and his\npredictions.\n\n\"Well then, let's make it somethin' worth while this time. Let's say\nyour claim agin mine--the Midas agin the Golconda--that the Allan an'\nDarlin' dogs win the race.\"\n\nA thrill of wild excitement ran through the crowd--two of the richest\nclaims in the whole of Alaska staked on the success or failure of one\ndog team, and the leader of that \"down and out\" at Timber.\n\n\"Oh, Moose, if our team don't come in you'll lose a terrible lot, an'\nyou've worked so hard t' git it.\"\n\n\"Even losin' Golconda won't break me now, Sonny; not by a long shot.\nAn' even ef it did, I got what I allers did have left; two hands t' work\nwith, the hull country t' work in, an' a kid that likes me,\" with an\naffectionate glance at the boy, \"t' work fer. With all that, an' a good\ndog er two, I wouldn't call a Queen my aunt. An' ef we should win,\nBen,--well, it's porterhouse fer Baldy the rest of his life at Mart\nBarclay's expense.\"\n\nAt Timber the time was passing with discouraging rapidity. Nothing they\ncould do seemed to have any beneficial effect on Baldy's legs--the legs\nthat had been such a matter of pride to the boy in the old Golconda\ndays.\n\nIn the races it is the custom to carry, at intervals, any dogs who need\nto recuperate, but Baldy had always manifested a certain scorn of these\n\"passengers\"; and \"Scotty\" knew that it would only be by force that he\ncould be kept off his feet.\n\n\"Bill, you hold the dog; and Paul, if you'll keep the mouth of the\nsleeping bag open, I'll try to get Baldy into it.\"\n\nPoor Baldy resisted, but he was in the hands of his friends, so that\nhis resistance was of necessity less violent than he could have wished;\nand in spite of his opposition he was tied in the bag, and gently lifted\nupon the sled.\n\nAfter thoughtful consideration, \"Scotty\" placed Irish and Rover at the\nhead of the team. \"They're good dogs; mighty good dogs, but they're not\nused to the grind like Baldy.\"\n\nHe took his place at the handle-bars. \"I'll try my hardest, boys, but\nevery chance is against me now.\"\n\nBefore he could give the word to the new leaders, there was the sound of\ngnawing, and the quick rending of cloth. He turned to see Baldy's head\nemerge from the bag, his eyes blazing with determination and his sharp\nfangs tearing the fastenings apart, and the hide to shreds.\n\n\"Baldy,\" he called; but Baldy threw himself from the sled with evident\npain, but in a frenzy of haste.\n\nWith intense amazement they watched him drag himself, with the utmost\ndifficulty, out of the sled, and up to the front of the team.\n\nHe paused a moment, and then by a supreme effort started off, expecting\nthe others to follow. There was no response to his desperate\nappeal--for they were not used to Baldy as a loose leader. Again he came\nback, and again endeavored to induce his team-mates to go with him down\nthe trail, but in vain; they waited a word from their master.\n\nThe men stood speechless; and the dog, whimpering pitifully, crept close\nto Allan and looking up into his face reproachfully seemed to beg to be\nrestored to his rightful place, and tried to show him that just so long\nas there was life in Baldy's body, \"Scotty\" would have a leader.\n\nPaul Kegsted and Bill Allan hastily disappeared around opposite corners\nof the building to meet on the other side with eyes suspiciously wet.\n\n\"Bill, did you ever see anything like that,\" demanded Kegsted\ntremulously, \"for grit and spirit and--\"\n\n\"And brave and loving service,\" added Bill, swallowing hard.\n\nWhile \"Scotty's\" voice broke as, leaning down to stroke the dog\ntenderly, he said, \"I know you're game, Baldy, game to the end; but it\ncan't be done, and I'll hook you up to prove it.\"\n\nTo his astonishment Baldy moved forward; very, very slowly at first,\nthen slightly faster and with less and less stiffness, until in an hour\nor so of moderate speed he was himself once more.\n\nThe exercise had done more than the liniment, and finally he was\nswinging along at a rate that showed no sign of his recent incapacity.\nThey were off again in their usual form, and Nome waited impatiently for\nword of the belated team.\n\nIn the next few hours the messages that reached the expectant city were\nfull of thrills--of hopes and fears. Groups of excited people met to\ndiscuss again all phases of the contest; the freshness of the dogs, the\nstamina of the men, the possibility of accidents; for a broken harness,\na refractory leader, an error in judgment, may mean overwhelming defeat\nat the eleventh hour.\n\nNever in the annals of the Sweepstakes had the result been so doubtful,\nthe chances so even. The two Johnsons, Holmsen, Dalzene, Allan--all men\nnoted for their ability and fortitude--men who would be picked out of\nthe whole North to represent the best type of trailsmen, were nearly\nneck and neck, less than fifty miles from Nome, ready for the final\ndash. And what a dash it was!\n\n[Illustration: AN ALAKAN SWEEPSTAKES TEAM\n\nFay Dalzene, Driver]\n\nLike phantom teams they silently sped far out over the frozen waters of\nBering Sea, threading their way between huge ice hummocks that rose,\ngrotesque and ghostly, in the misty grayness of the Arctic twilight.\nThrough the chill dusk they toiled up the steep slopes of Topkok Hill,\nthrough treacherous defiles, over perilous hidden glaciers, toward\nSolomon and safety.\n\nIt was any one's race.\n\nThe telephone brought news that varied from moment to moment. John\nJohnson was steady as to pace, and slightly in the lead; later Holmsen\nhad passed him, then Dalzene. Allan had dropped behind. The excitement\ngrew more intense each instant. Side by side drove Dalzene and Charlie\nJohnson, with Holmsen at their heels--dogs and men on their mettle,\nmagnificent in endurance and spirit; but closing in upon them was \"Finn\nJohn\" with his Blue Eyed Leader, and Nome well knew what they could do,\nand had done twice.\n\nThen, too, there was always \"Scotty\" to be feared; always his marvelous\ngeneralship to be reckoned with; his perfect mastery of the dogs, and\ntheir devotion to him to be considered.\n\n\"Seals on the ice ahead, Spot,\" had been a suggestion that had fired not\nonly Spot, but Tom, Dick and Harry also with a new interest that almost\nbanished fatigue.\n\nThen at intervals there were broken bars, alternately whistled and sung,\nof Home Sweet Home; and the dogs knew, someway, that this strange noise\nalways signified that their journey was nearly at an end. And once, in\nreadjusting his harness, \"Scotty\" had caressed Baldy so affectionately\nthat the dog forgot the struggle he had passed through, remembering the\nhappy fact that he had not failed in his trust.\n\nAll of this encouragement resulted in an increased activity that began\nto tell in the fast decreasing distance between their team and the\nothers.\n\n\"On, Baldy; on, boys,\" and on they came out of the long reaches of utter\ndesolation, of dreary monotony, of lifeless calm, with a rush that soon\nbrought Johnson in view. \"Gee\"--they whirled to the right and by him\nwith unexpected ease; then on and on still, till they could see the\nothers. Baldy, spurred by that to yet stronger efforts, plunged forward\nwith renewed vigor until he seemed, with his team-mates, to touch the\ndrifted snows as lightly as a gull skims the crested waves.\n\nWhen nearly abreast of those who had been setting so fast a pace, Allan,\nin a low voice, tense with the excitement of the moment, called again to\nthe dogs. \"Speed up, Baldy; speed up, boys. Don't let the Siberian\nFuzzy-Wuzzies beat you again. Show them what your long legs are good\nfor--Alaskans to the front,\" and Baldy, with an almost incredible burst\nof speed, shot past them, and was at last in the lead in that mad,\nheadlong drive for Nome.\n\nThere was no hint of the laggard now in Tom, Dick and Harry--no\nsuspicion of \"staleness\" in their keen pride in their work; Irish and\nRover, ever fleet and responsive, needed no urging; Jack McMillan gave\nhis stupendous energy, his superb intelligence with loyal abandon; and\nBaldy, as well as \"Scotty,\" felt that each dog in the entire team had\nproved the wisdom of his choice by a willing service now to the driver\nhe loved.\n\nFort Davis! The thunderous boom of the guns heralded the approach of\nthe first team. Nome, up the coast, was in a furor. Once more the people\ngathered quickly in the streets, and hurried toward the gaily\nilluminated stands to witness the finish of the great event.\n\nThough it was ten o'clock at night, the full moon and the radiance of\nthe snow made everything shimmer and glitter with wonderful brilliancy.\nHigh above the lights of the little town, which seemed but a\ncontinuation of the stars, flamed the Way-Farer's Cross on the spire of\nSt. Joseph's; huge bonfires cast a flickering crimson glow upon the\nfrosted pinnacles of ice, and rockets rose and fell like sparkling\njewels in the clear sky.\n\nOverhead fluttered a silken purse and the Trophy Cup, suspended by the\nKennel Club colors from a wire that marked the end of the longest and\nmost picturesque course in the racing world.\n\nThe wild wailing of many wolf dogs, shrill whistles, the merry peal of\nbells, added to the deafening clamor--as far away over the frozen sea a\ndim black shadow came--a swiftly moving shadow that soon was engulfed in\nthe swaying mob that surged to meet it.\n\nThe Woman leaned from out the Judges' Stand, waving streamers of White\nand Gold in joyous welcome.\n\nBen Edwards, thrilling with pride and happiness, slipped through the\njostling crowd, and saw coming to him, down the Silver Trail, an ugly,\nrough-coated, faithful dog--bringing in his triumph, a justification of\nthe boy's unshaken faith, a reward for his unfaltering affection.\n\nAgain and again there were the stirring notes of the bugle, shouts of\ngood will and praise, wild, incessant cheers, as the Allan and Darling\nTeam, with every dog in harness, and \"Scotty\" Allan at the handle-bars,\nswept over the line--winners of the most hotly contested race the North\nhas ever known, and led to victory by Baldy of Nome.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nImmortals of the Trail\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nIMMORTALS OF THE TRAIL\n\n\nThe brief summer was over. The flowers that had blossomed so freely and\nso brightly under fair skies and in ceaseless sunshine were gone; and in\nthe air was the chill of the early Arctic winter.\n\nThe Woman shivered slightly in spite of her furs. There was excitement\nin the air.\n\nBeside her, erect and soldierly, walked Captain Rene' Haas of the French\nArmy, with a firm elastic tread that spoke of many marches.\n\nHe was talking earnestly with an enthusiasm that lighted up his keen\ndark eyes as with an inner fire.\n\n\"You see, there were many places last winter on the battle-front where\nhorses, mules or motors could not be used; for the snow was too soft and\ndeep, and the crust too thin. Many places where they needed just such a\nmethod of transportation as we of the North know so well,--dogs. I\ntried,\" modestly, \"to show them a little of all that could be done, with\na few that I trained casually. But I spoke much of the marvelous dogs of\nAlaska that I have learned to know and love so well in the past few\nyears; of their intelligence, their endurance, and their almost\nincredible speed in the big races. My Government listened; and so I was\nsent to take back with me the pick of the whole North, though there will\nbe many more from parts of Canada and Labrador.\"\n\n\"But not like ours of Nome,\" proudly replied the Woman.\n\n\"No, not like yours of Nome. That is why I am here. A hundred or more\ntrained by Allan and other racing men will be worth a thousand ordinary\nrecruits. Since he received my cable message telling my plans, 'Scotty'\nhas assembled a splendid lot of team dogs for me, with a full equipment\nof sleds and harness; and even the dog salmon for the 'Commissary\nDepartment.'\n\n\"There is indeed but little left for me to do, as the outfit will be\nperfect now, with a few more experienced leaders.\"\n\n\"And you think,\" questioned the Woman with lips that quivered and eyes\nthat were dim, \"that they will be treated well, that--\" Her voice was\nunsteady and she hesitated.\n\nThe young Captain seemed to divine all the unspoken fears.\n\n\"There is very little danger in the work,\" he assured her readily. \"They\nwill probably be used entirely in courier and carrier service in the\npasses of the French Alps.\n\n\"I belong to an Alpine Corps myself, and they will be under my direct\nsupervision, so far as possible. Really,\" with honest conviction, \"they\nwill be far better off than if you sold them to freighters or\nprospectors for a life of toil, possibly of neglect even. All soldiers,\nirrespective of nationality, are good to the animals in their charge.\"\n\n\"I suppose it's true,\" sighed the Woman, \"that we cannot go on\naccumulating dogs indefinitely; that some of them must be sold from time\nto time. And I, too, would rather see them go like this than to feel\nthey might suffer worse hardships and abuses on the Trail.\"\n\n\"Scotty\" met them at the door of the Kennel. \"Come in, and we'll all go\nover the place together. It will not take long now to make up the rest\nof the required number,\" and he skimmed quickly over the paper in his\nhand.\n\nMatt, hovering near, doing unnecessary things for the dogs, was plainly\nmuch disturbed. George and Dan, full of a war atmosphere produced by the\nFrench officer, and a kennel and corral guarded night and day, conversed\neagerly of the important affairs that were happening about them; while\nBen, listening apparently to their serious discussions of the European\nsituation, as likely to be affected by this purchase, was in reality\nbeset with a dread that drove all else from his mind.\n\n\"It's going to be a hard choice,\" the Woman mused as she glanced down\nthe long line of stalls on either side, and one end, of the roomy\nstable.\n\n\"Scotty\" paused before the Mego dogs that had fought so valiantly for\nfirst honors in the Juvenile Race.\n\n[Illustration: CAPTAIN HAAS OF THE FRENCH ARMY, AND HIS ALASKAN SLEDGES]\n\n\"Excellent,\" observed Captain Haas, as he looked them over carefully.\n\"Strong, intelligent, fleet,\" and \"Scotty\" wrote the names of Judge,\nJimmie and Pete.\n\n\"I knew I was a pretty good judge o' dogs,\" announced Dan with pleased\nconviction; \"but there's some class t' bein' a judge backed up by the\nFrench Government,\" and he regarded his former team with mingled\nfeelings of regret and satisfaction.\n\nOn they went, adding name after name to the fast growing list.\n\n\"Not Tom, Dick and Harry,\" the Woman exclaimed as they came to the\nTolmans. \"These Veterans have served us too long and too loyally.\" And\n\"Scotty\" nodded silently.\n\n\"Irish and Rover?\"\n\nBut before the question could be answered, the gentle Irish Setters\ngazed into her eyes beseechingly, and nosed her sleeve, confident of a\ncaress.\n\n\"Impossible,\" she murmured hastily; \"they are our dear comrades. And\nSpot,\" with an emphatic shake of the head, \"belongs to George.\"\n\nFinally they paused at the last two stalls and looked from Jack\nMcMillan to Baldy. McMillan tugged violently at his chain, striving to\nreach the Woman; while Baldy, as though he understood it all, crept\nclose to \"Scotty's\" side.\n\nCaptain Haas knew both of the dogs well. He had seen Jack turned from a\ncareer of rebellion and unrest to one of willing patient service; and\nBaldy, plodding, obscure, hard working Baldy, become the boast of the\nwhole North.\n\n\"Here are the two,\" admiringly, \"that please me most of all. McMillan's\nstrength is superb--Baldy's endurance unparalleled. What War Dogs they\nwould make! One I must have; it matters little which. The price--\" he\ngave an eloquent gesture of complete indifference.\n\nThe Woman stroked Jack's sable muzzle gently. She thought of the old\ndays when his name was once a symbol of all that was fierce and\nwolf-like and wicked in the annals of Nome; and then of his unbroken\nspirit and steadfast allegiance to her. \"McMillan of the Broken Tusks,\"\nshe said softly, \"has no price.\"\n\nThen, eagerly, \"Baldy?\"\n\n\"I cannot give Baldy up,\" was the firm reply. \"He has led the team in\nthree great victories; and he did not desert me when I lay freezing and\nhelpless, alone in the snow.\" \"Scotty's\" hand rested lovingly on the\nugly dark head pressed so tightly, so trustfully against him. \"He's a\nwonderful leader and my faithful friend.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" the Captain said, and turned away. \"The list is now\ncomplete.\"\n\nAnd in the dusk of the Kennel, as once on the Golconda Trail, the boy's\nwet cheek was laid tenderly against the dog's rough coat; but the tears\nthat fell now were tears of joy. \"Oh, Baldy,\" he whispered happily,\n\"some day you'll be with me Outside. We'll do things there some day.\"\n\n[Illustration: BALDY OF NOME]\n\nThen came the day, filled with excitement and thrills, when on a\ntow-line three hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred and six famous\ndogs passed through the streets of the far-away Arctic town, on their\nway to the battle-fields of France.\n\nAt their head was Spot, with George Allan trudging proudly by his side.\n\n\"I'll lend you Spot to get them down to the dock,\" was his offer to\nCaptain Haas. \"You know he is fine in a crowd,\" and the officer\nsmilingly accepted the services of Spot.\n\nAnd crowds there were, too, to go through; for as on the Sweepstakes\nDays all of Nome had gathered to bid a final God Speed to the greatest\ndogs of Alaska--a Foreign Legion indeed--bound for the front.\n\nWith no confusion, under the direction of Captain Haas and \"Scotty\"\nAllan, who was to go with them as far as Quebec, they had been placed on\nboard the \"Senator\" lying out in the roadstead.\n\nA silent little group stood on the dreary beach watching the twinkling\nlights of the distant ship as she sailed, phantom-like, out into the\nmisty grayness of Bering Sea.\n\nOnly the dull pounding of the surf and the weird cry of the wolf dogs\nbroke the stillness.\n\nAt last the Woman turned from the Big Man at her side toward the boy and\nMoose Jones.\n\n\"Some time, perhaps,\" she said half sadly, yet with pride, \"the Captain\nmay have great tales for us of the War Dogs of the North. But never,\nnever, Ben, will there be greater tales than we can tell of the Old\nGuard, Baldy of Nome and the others--our Immortals of the Trail.\"\n\n[Illustration]","title":"Baldy of Nome","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":48825}