WHERE EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY
Baldy's entrance into the Allan and Darling Kennel had failed to attract
the interest that the arrival of a new inmate usually created. He was an
accident, not an acquisition, and the little comment upon his presence
was generally unfavorable.
Even Matt, who took care of the dogs, and was a sort of godfather to
them all, shook his head dubiously over Baldy. "He don't seem to belong
here, someway," had been his mild criticism; while the Woman complained
to "Scotty" that he was one of the most unresponsive dogs she had ever
known.
"He's not exactly unresponsive," maintained "Scotty" justly; "but he's
self-contained, and it's hard for him to adjust himself to these recent
changes. It's all strange to him, and he misses the boy. You can't watch
him with Ben and say that he's not affectionate; but he gives his
affection slowly, and to but few people. One must earn it."
The Woman regarded Baldy with amused contempt. "So one must work hard
for his affection, eh? Well, with all of the attractive dogs here
willing to lavish their devotion upon us, I think it would hardly be
worth while trying to coax Baldy's reluctant tolerance into something
warmer."
"Scotty" admitted that Baldy could hardly be considered genial. "He's
like some people whose natures are immobile--inexpressive. It's going to
take a little while to find out if it's because there is nothing to
express, or because he is undemonstrative, and has to show by his
conduct rather than by his manners what there is to him."
It was true that Baldy was unmistakably ill at ease in his new quarters,
and did not feel at home; for he was accustomed neither to the luxuries
nor to the restrictions that surrounded him. His early experiences had
been distinctly plebeian and uninteresting, but they had been quite free
of control.
Born at one of the mining claims in the hills, of worthy hard-working
parents, he had, with the various other members of the family, been
raised to haul freight from town to the mine. But his attachment for Ben
Edwards had intervened, and before he was really old enough to be
thoroughly broken to harness, he had taken up his residence at Golconda.
Here his desultory training continued, but a lesson in sled pulling was
almost invariably turned into a romp, so that he had only acquired the
rudiments of an education when he came under "Scotty's" supervision.
His complete ignorance in matters of deportment, and possibly, too, his
retiring disposition, made him feel an intruder in the exclusive coterie
about him; and certainly there was a pronounced lack of cordiality on
the part of most of the dogs toward him. This was especially true of
Tom, Dick, and Harry, the famous Tolman brothers, who were the Veterans
of Alaska Dog Racing, and so had a standing in the Kennel that none
dared question. That is, none save Dubby, who recognized no standard
other than his own; and that standard took no cognizance of Racers as
Racers. They were all just dogs--good or bad--to Dubby.
The fact that Tom, Dick, and Harry had been in every one of those unique
dashes across the snow-swept wastes of Seward Peninsula, from Bering Sea
to the Arctic Ocean and return, and had never been "out of the money,"
did not count greatly in his rigid code. The same distance covered
slowly by freighters in pursuance of their task of earning their daily
living would seem to him far more worthy of respect and emulation. And
so, when the Tolman brothers, who were apt to be quarrelsome with those
"not in their class," showed a coldness toward Baldy that threatened to
break into open hostility at the slightest excuse, Dubby promptly ranged
himself on the side of the newcomer with a firmness that impressed even
Tom, Dick, and Harry with a determination to be at least discreet if not
courteous.
They had learned, with all of the others in the Kennel, to treat with a
studied politeness--even deference--the wonderful old Huskie whose
supremacy as a leader had become a Tradition of the North; and who was
still in fighting trim should cause for trouble arise. He did not rely
alone on his past achievements, which were many and brilliant, but he
maintained a reputation for ever-ready power which is apt to give
immunity from attack.
Dubby's attitude toward the Racers generally was galling in the extreme.
Usually he ignored them completely, turning his back upon them when they
were being harnessed, and apparently oblivious of their very existence;
except as such times when he felt that they needed suggestions as to
their behavior.
There was, in a way, a certain injustice in Dubby's contempt for what
might be called the sporting element of the stable; for, like college
athletes, they were only sports incidentally, and for the greater part
of the year they were as ready and willing to do a hard day's work in
carrying goods to the creeks as were the more commonplace dogs who had
never won distinction on the Trail.
But Dubby was ultra-conservative; and while "Scotty" must have had some
strange human reason for all of these silly dashes with an absolutely
empty sled, in his opinion hauling a boiler up to Hobson Creek would be
a far more efficacious means of exercise, and would be a practical
accomplishment besides. Dubby was of a generation that knew not racing.
Of noted McKenzie River parentage, he came from Dawson, where he was
born, down the Yukon to Nome with "Scotty" Allan. He had led a team of
his brothers and sisters, six in all, the entire distance of twelve
hundred miles, early manifesting that definite acknowledged mastery over
the others that is indispensable in a good leader. He had realized what
it meant to be a Pioneer, had penetrated with daring men the waste
places in search of fame, fortune and adventure; and had carried the
heavy burdens of gold wrested from rock-ribbed mountain, and bouldered
river bed. He had helped to take the United States Mail to remote and
inaccessible districts, and had sped with the Doctor and Priest to the
bedside of the sick or dying in distant, lonely cabins.
He and his kind have ever shared the toil of the development of that
desolate country that stretches from the ice-bound Arctic to where the
gray and sullen waters of Bering Sea break on a bleak and wind-swept
shore. They figure but little in the forest-crowned Alaska of the
South, with its enchanted isles, emerald green, in the sunlit, silver
waves; but they are an indispensable factor in the very struggle for
mere existence up beyond the chain of rugged Aleutians whose towering
volcanoes are ever enveloped in a sinister shroud of smoke. Up in the
eternal snows of the Alaska of the North, the unknown Alaska--the Alaska
of Men and Dogs.
[Illustration: THE ALASKA OF MEN AND DOGS June 1--The
steamer Corwin at the edge of the ice, five miles from shore]
And so it is not strange that in such a land where the dog has ever
played well his rôle of support to those who have faced its dangers and
conquered its terrors, that his importance should be at last freely
acknowledged, and the fact admitted that only the best possible dogs
should be used for all arduous tasks.
Toward this end the Nome Kennel Club was organized. The object was not
alone the improvement of the breeds used so extensively, but also, since
the first President was a Kentuckian, of equal importance was the
furnishing of a wholesome and characteristic sport for the community.
And Nome, once famed for her eager, reckless treasure-seekers in that
great rush of 1900; famed once for being the "widest open" camp in all
Alaska, now in her days of peace and quiet still claims recognition. Not
only because of the millions taken out annually by her huge dredgers and
hydraulics; not only because she is an important trading station that
supplies whalers and explorers with all necessary equipment for their
voyages in the Arctic; not only because of her picturesque history; but
because she possesses the best sled dogs to be found, and originated and
maintains the most thrilling and most difficult sport the world has ever
known--Long Distance Dog Racing.
Previous to the advent of these races any dog that could stand on four
legs, and had strength enough to pull, was apt to be pressed into
service; but since they have become a recognized feature of the life
there, a certain pride has manifested itself in the dog-drivers, and
dog-owners, who aim now to use only the dogs really fitted for the work.
Even the Eskimos, who were notorious for their indifferent handling of
their ill-fed, overburdened beasts, have joined in the "better dog"
movement, which is a popular and growing one.
According to Dubby's stern law, however, most of the Racers--the
long-legged, supple-bodied Tolmans, the delicately built Irish Setters,
Irish and Rover, and numberless others of the same type, would have been
condemned to the ignominy of being mere pets; useless canine adjuncts to
human beings--creatures that were allowed in the house, and were given
strangely repulsive bits of food in return for degrading antics, such as
sitting on one's hind legs or playing dead.
Occasionally there was, for some valid reason, an exception to his
disapproval; as in the case, for instance, of Jack McMillan. For while
he could not but deplore Jack's headstrong ways, and his intolerance of
authority in the past, he nevertheless felt a certain admiration for the
big tawny dog who moved with the lithe ease of the panther, and held
himself with the imposing dignity of the lion. An admiration for the dog
whose reputation for wickedness extended even to the point of being
called a "man-eater," and was the source, far and near, of a respect
largely tempered with fear.
There was always an air of repressed pride about Jack when he listened
to the thrilling accounts of his crimes told with dramatic inspiration
to horrified audiences; a pride which is not seemly save for great
worth and good deeds. Yet in spite of these grave faults of character
Dubby accorded McMillan the recognition due his wonderful strength and
keen intelligence; for Dubby, while intolerant of mere speed, was ever
alert to find the sterner and more rugged qualities in his associates.
Perhaps it was partly because Baldy possessed no trivial graces and
manifested no disdain for the homely virtues of the work dogs whose
faithfulness has won for them an honorable place in the community, that
Dubby had soon given unmistakable signs of friendliness that helped to
make Baldy's new home endurable.
While Dubby's championship was a great comfort, there were many things
of every-day occurrence that surprised and annoyed Baldy. Out of the
bewilderment that had at first overwhelmed him he had finally evolved
two Great Rules of Conduct, which he observed implicitly--to Pull as
Hard as he Could, and to Obey his Driver. This code of ethics is perfect
for a trail dog of Alaska, but it was in the minor things that he was
constantly perplexed--things in which it was difficult to distinguish
between right and wrong, or at least between folly and wisdom. To tell
where frankness of action became tactlessness, and the renunciation of
passing pleasures a pose. It was particularly disconcerting to see that
virtue often remained unnoticed, and that vice just as often escaped
retribution; and what he saw might have undermined Baldy's whole moral
nature, but for the simple sincerity that was the key-note to his
character. As an artless dog of nature he was accustomed, when the world
did not seem just and right to him, to show it plainly--an attitude not
conducive to popularity; and it often made him seem surly when as a
matter of fact he was only puzzled or depressed. He could not feign an
amiability to hide hatred and vindictiveness as did the Tolmans, and it
was a constant shock to him to note how the hypocrisy of Tom and his
brothers deluded their friends into a deep-seated belief in their
integrity. Even after such depravity as chasing the Allan girl's pet
cat, stealing a neighbor's dog-salmon, or attacking an inoffensive
Cocker Spaniel, he had seen Tom so meek and pensive that no one could
suspect him of wrong-doing who had not actually witnessed it; and he had
seen the Woman, when she _had_ actually witnessed it, become a sort of
accessory after the fact, and shield Tom from "Scotty's" just wrath,
which was extraordinary and confusing.
The confinement of a Kennel, too, no matter how commodious, was most
trying. Even the vigorous daily exercise was "personally conducted" by
Matt; and Baldy longed for the freedom that had been his when alone, or
preferably with the boy, he had roamed through the far stretches of rank
grass, tender willows, and sweet-smelling herbs in summer, or over the
wide, snowy plains in winter.
Then, later, the boy came to Baldy; and there were blissful periods when
he would lie with his head on Ben's lap; when the repressed enmity of
the haughty Tolmans, the cold indifference of the magnificent McMillan,
and even Matt's eternal vigilance were forgotten. Periods when his
companion's toil-hardened hands stroked the sleek sides and sinewy
flanks that no longer hinted of insufficient nourishment; and caressing
fingers lingered over the smooth and shining coat that had once been so
rough and ragged.
To see Baldy receiving the same care and consideration as his
stable-mates, who had won the plaudits of the world, justified the boy's
sacrifice; and in spite of his loneliness he always left Baldy with a
happy heart.
"We'll show 'em some day we was worth while, won't we, Baldy?" he would
whisper confidently; and Baldy's reply was sure to be a satisfactory wag
of his bobbed tail, signifying that he certainly intended to do his
best.
[Illustration]
III
The First Step
[Illustration]
[Illustration]