THE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW
Once out of the streets where there is danger of upsetting the unwary or
absent-minded pedestrian, the Allan and Darling Team headed down the
trail with real pleasure in the prospect of a long run.
They almost seemed to feel that this jaunt might be in the nature of a
"try-out" for racing material; or at the very least it might offer
something worth while in the way of adventure.
As a matter of fact it did, in the end, prove an eventful trip.
Particularly for Baldy, who gained recognition in an unexpected manner;
for the Woman, whose experiences nearly quenched her ardor for
exploration; and for Jemima, who learned that masculine human nature
respects feminine ambition up to a certain point only, and then
considers it a form of mania to be restrained.
Just behind was Pete Bernard, a sturdy French Canadian, trying to hold
his uncontrollable, half-wild huskies, who were jumping and making
sudden lunges toward any stranger--man or dog--that wandered near; and
especially toward the Yellow Peril, who was a free lance in the
expedition, and as such was particularly irritating to those in harness.
They were a perfect contrast to "Scotty's" dogs, who had been taught to
step into place, each as his name was called, standing quietly until all
were in position, and the traces were snapped to the tow-line; and then,
as the signal was given, to dart ahead with the ease and precision of
machinery started by electricity. Pete's sled was piled high with
freight and luggage, and astride of this was the Big Man, also in furs.
It was a cloudless day in January--a marvelous combination of white and
blue. Snowy plains rose almost imperceptibly into softly curved hills,
and ended in rugged mountains that were outlined in sharp, silvery
peaks against the dazzling sky.
The air was crisp and keen, the jingle of the sled-bells merry, and
Baldy even forgot, in the very joy of living, and in the nearness of
Ben, that Jemima was his team-mate.
[Illustration: THE AIR WAS CRISP AND
KEEN]
They could faintly hear Pete's voice giving strange directions to his
dogs; for Pete was Captain of a coasting schooner in summer, and
freighted with a dog team in winter, and used the same terms in both
occupations. He steered his ship "Gee" and "Haw," admonished his dogs
"not to get tangled up in their riggin'," and cautioned them against
"runnin' afoul of other craft." Of course no well raised dog could be
expected to know that his harness was "riggin'," nor that a sled could
possibly come under the head of "craft "; and he would be quite at a
loss to grasp Pete's meaning generally. But as Pete's team never obeyed
anyway, except by the exercise of sheer bodily force, it made but small
difference how he spoke to them.
On they came, "passenger" and "cargo" safely aboard, some distance
behind the Racers, who passed before long the famous Paystreak Diggings,
which had yielded their many millions, and were soon beyond the groups
of miners' cabins on the Third Beach Line.
It was a very different Baldy--this Baldy of Nome--from the one who had
so often in the days gone by traveled the Golconda Trail with his
friend, the boy. The days when he was hungry and foot-sore and
heart-sick, and now--Baldy straightened up proudly, and nearly pulled
Jemima off her feet in his desire to render good service for favors
received. While Ben's eyes sparkled as he glanced at the dog in his
responsible position of right wheeler in the Allan and Darling Team of
Racers.
There the way led up a gentle slope, then down to the bed of Nome River,
where they kept on the ice for several miles. It was here that Jemima's
unfitness for work with experts began to manifest itself; as well as the
unusual tenacity of purpose that seemed either perseverance or
perversity--depending upon whether you looked at the matter from Baldy's
standpoint or from hers.
"Scotty" watched with some amusement her efforts to keep up with the
others on the slippery ice, and when he thought she was becoming tired
he stopped her, and let her run free. When she realized that she was
out of the team her amazement and chagrin were plainly manifest. She sat
down in the snow while she figured out a plan of campaign for the
restoration of her rights; and then was off immediately in pursuit.
"Scotty" had brought Fisher back into the wheel with Baldy; and Jemima,
without pausing, jumped over Fisher's back between him and Baldy, to the
growling disgust of the latter. Of course all three became "tangled in
the riggin'," and the sled slipped up and over them.
The Woman, thinking the dogs were hurt, gave a frightened scream, Ben
was nearly thrown out by the sudden jolt, and "Scotty "--yes, "Scotty"
said something short and forceful, which was most rare; though swearing
much or little seems almost as invariable a part of dog mushing as it is
of mule driving. Jemima was lifted out, the tow-line straightened, and
another start was made; but after trotting along steadily for a time she
gave a second sudden leap, and was between the two dogs just in front of
the wheelers. Once more things were badly mixed, and the untangling
process had to be repeated. "Scotty" was annoyed, but interested; for
the usual rebukes had no effect on Jemima who was still agreeably but
firmly bent upon being an active member of the team.
Again and again she tried the same move till she had been ousted from
every position she had endeavored to fill. And then, more in sorrow than
in anger, she abandoned the unsuccessful tactics, stepped up beside Kid,
and, keeping pace with him, ran at the head of the team until they drew
up before the door of the Nugget Road House, where they were to spend
the night. Jemima believed in preserving appearances.
When they were settled, the Woman with "Scotty" and Ben went into the
barn to see the dogs fed, and said if Jemima showed any inclination,
because of her frustrated plans, to destroy Road House property, or
refuse food, her name should be changed to Emmeline. But Jemima, at
least to her own satisfaction, had demonstrated her ability, as well as
her unswerving determination, so she ate dried salmon and corn meal
porridge with zest, and slept soundly, content to leave the rest to
Allan's sense of justice. Baldy looked distrustfully at the sleeping
Jemima, and thought approvingly of the absent Mego--for Baldy was
somewhat primitive in his ideas of the hitherto gentle sex.
Shortly afterward the other team came--and then followed the excitement
and confusion that was the inevitable accompaniment of the arrival of
Pete Bernard and his howling huskies.
What an untrained lot they were--fierce and unapproachable--for no one
ever handled them but Pete, and he had no time to give to their higher
education. If they had the strength to pull, he would see that they did
it; he never used a dog physically unfit, and was perfectly willing to
go through with them any of the severe hardships they were forced to
endure. Did he not, without hesitation, drive them mercilessly through
black night and raging blizzard to bring a freezing stranger to the
hospital--a man whose one chance lay in skilled care?
It was no great thing in Pete's sight--a simple episode of the North.
The man was in dire need, he himself was strong, and his dogs would go
through anything with Pete "at the steerin' gear"--and so a life was
saved.
When the Bernard team was also stabled, Baldy was overcome with that
delicious drowsiness that follows a busy day in the open. From the house
came those strange noises that people seem to so much enjoy--else why do
they remain within reach of them instead of running far away, as did
Baldy at first? But he, like the rest of the Allan and Darling family,
had eventually become used to the phonograph; and their perfect
self-control now enabled them to lie quietly through the "Sextette from
Lucia" or the latest rag time at least with composure, if not with
pleasure.
Not so, however, Pete's uncultured brutes; such strains were melancholy
and painful to them in the extreme; and they did not hesitate to let it
be known. One by one they began to howl, till all twelve were wailing
dolefully and continuously. The Nugget dogs joined them, and Baldy
noticed with stern condemnation that Fisher and Wolf, who had not yet
acquired the repose of manner that comes of rigid discipline, were also
guilty of this breach of Road House decorum. Allan and Pete rushed out
to quell the disturbance, but the Big Man said not to interfere; that
many a dollar he had paid for an evening of Strauss or Debussy when the
clamor was just as loud, and to him no more melodious--and he was for
letting them finish their "number" in peace.
At last the music-machine ceased from troubling, the rival canine
concert was ended, and laughter and song were hushed. The stillness of
the Arctic night fell upon the Nugget Road House, lying in the somber
shadow of the Sawtooth Mountains. And to Baldy and all the others came
rest and forgetfulness of such trials as nerve-racking sounds that
destroy well-earned sleep, and the enforced companionship of advanced
females that insist upon having a paw in the management of affairs that
should not concern them.
The next morning both teams were ready to continue the journey. The Big
Man with Pete Bernard and his huskies were to take the long route
through the Lowlands; while "Scotty" decided upon the short cut by the
Golden Gate Pass, because the Woman wanted to go the most picturesque
way.
It had been cold but clear when they left Nugget, and was still fair,
though somewhat colder, when they stopped for lunch at Slisco's; but
later, as they went up through the steep divide, the chill wind became
almost unbearable.
The trail had grown exceedingly rough, and for many miles there were,
at close intervals, a succession of jagged windrows rising like the
crests of huge waves frozen as they curled to break. Once when the sled
hit a crag, in spite of every effort to steer clear of it, "Scotty"
heard an ominous crack. He was obliged to stop, and with Ben's aid wound
the broken place with a stout cord. Then they tied the Woman in with
ropes, for there was constant fear that she might be hurled out when the
sled swerved unavoidably.
[Illustration: THE TRAIL HAD GROWN EXCEEDINGLY ROUGH]
It did not take them ten minutes to do it all, but Allan was obliged to
remove his gloves, and one of his hands became frost-bitten, and almost
useless for a time. He put Jemima, who had gone slightly lame, into the
sled with her friend, and tucked the warm rugs about them both; while
the boy insisted upon perching lightly on the side that he might be
ready to give instant assistance if necessary. The dog was resentful
against the enforced ease, however, for she was not at all ready, in
spite of pain, to give up her work.
In answer to the solicitous questions as to how she was standing it all,
there came from the numb and bleeding lips of the Woman, through an ice
encrusted veil, a reply that was something between a groan and a sob.
In faltering tones she declared herself "perfectly comfortable; found
the scenery glorious, and simply loved traveling by dog team." Had Baldy
understood this assurance of a "delightful ride," and had he seen
Jemima's strenuous resistance against what was necessary for her
well-being, it might have seemed to him proof positive of the existence
of certain traits characteristically feminine.
Kid, who was no respecter of the elements, much less of people, and
whose one rule of life appeared to be "Get There, and Get There First,"
dashed up those slippery barriers to find a sheer drop of five feet or
more on the other side, down which he would take team and sled.
The cold had become still more intense, and the thermometer they carried
registered thirty degrees below zero, with the summit far beyond. The
situation was serious, and "Scotty" felt that their best chance for
safety lay in the speed with which they could cross the Divide, and
reach the open country; for there the trail led over the flats, and
there were not the menacing precipices, that could not now be seen
through a dense fall of eddying snow.
The way had been completely obliterated, and even Kid had paused,
confused, and for once uncertain of the next move. "Scotty" called the
boy to the handle-bars. "Stand on the brake, Ben, and shout to Kid if he
should start after me. He may hear you even above the storm. I'll have
to go on to see if I cannot locate some sort of a trail." He lowered his
voice. "This is the worst place in the Sawtooth Range to be caught, and
I'll have to depend upon you to do a man's work. Losing the way now
would be a desperate matter, but of course we must not let her know how
desperate," with a gesture toward the sled.
When Allan forged ahead into the thickness of the whirling snow, and
disappeared completely, the boy felt a strange dread of the unknown.
There was something appalling in the mighty force of the Arctic blizzard
that had fallen full upon them. Something ghostly in the silent,
motionless figure of the Woman, covered as with a pall, by the drifting
snow, and in the shadowy string of dogs faintly seen, from time to time,
when a rare lull cleared the air to a dim and misty grayness. Something
terrifying in the cruel sting of the bitter wind that cut into the flesh
like whip-lashes, and shrieked and howled in its unspent rage over that
lonely and desolate mountain fastness.
It seemed ages before "Scotty" returned to report that there was no sign
of a trail. "I used to know this country fairly well, and I think I'd
better go on before the team for a while to try to keep at least in the
right direction. But I'll have to put another dog in the lead with Kid.
It's almost impossible to make any headway, and two of the strongest
dogs will barely be able to hold up against this blow."
He thought deeply for a moment. Life or death might hinge upon his
selection of dogs that would follow him through danger and disaster
unfalteringly, unflinchingly. And, too, he must decide at once.
As in a flash there came to him the memory of Baldy's steadfast strength
in the boys' race, his calm determination; and after an instant's
hesitation he hooked Baldy up beside Kid. With a few words of direction
to Ben, "Scotty" turned once more into the teeth of the gale; and at his
heels, patient and obedient, came his stanch team with Kid and Baldy in
the lead.
Ben felt, even in the midst of the distress and danger, a thrill of joy;
while Baldy was filled with pride. He had supposed that Tom, Dick,
Harry or McMillan would share that honor and responsibility with Kid,
and now, unexpectedly, it had come to him. "Scotty" was trusting him;
safety for them all might rest on his strength and faithfulness, and he
was grateful indeed for this opportunity to prove that he was both
strong and faithful.
He did not care though the glittering frost whitened his short hair, and
pierced his sinewy flanks like a knife thrust; he hardly realized that
the driving snow froze his eyelids together, and caked between his toes,
making his feet so tender that they bled. Straining and breathless he
plunged forward, knowing only that behind him was his friend the boy,
with a helpless human being; and that somewhere beyond was his master,
calling to them from out the cold and the dark. So, blindly, willingly,
they followed the intrepid man who staggered on, and on, till at last
the fury of the storm was over. Then the chill mist seemed to rise, as a
curtain, and the peaceful Valley of the Kruzgamapa lay before them,
bathed in the glow of the early winter sunset.
Far across the white plains, surrounded by willows and alders, leafless
and outlined skeleton-like against the rosy sky, lay the Hot Springs
Road House. Its shining windows and smoking chimney brought hopeful
interest and renewed courage, even to those already "perfectly
comfortable"; and gave to the dogs that zest and eagerness that marks
the sighted end of a hard day's run.
In another half hour they had arrived at their destination, and were all
warmly housed. Jemima, stiff, and a bit inclined to be sulky, had been
lifted out of the sled and was now resting cozily on some furs in the
corner. The Woman, almost rigid, had also been lifted out, and after
thawing a little, was busily engaged in applying soothing remedies to a
badly scarred cheek and chin; for the Big Man was due at any moment, and
his facetious comments on the unpleasant results of her "pleasure trips"
had become time-honored, if unwelcome, family jokes.
Ben was vastly contented in the knowledge that he had been of real
service, and accepted the appreciation that was warmly expressed with
modest joy.
As for Baldy, there was the dawn of a glorious future in that day's
work. When, in his turn, Allan came to him and rubbed cooling ointment
into his swollen and bleeding feet, there was much more than just the
customary kindly stroke. Something Baldy could not fathom, that made his
heart beat happily. There was born, of a touch and tone, the wonderful
ambition to be classed with Dubby and Kid in his master's affections; as
with his hand still resting gently on Baldy, "Scotty" turned to the boy.
"Ben, we're glad _now_ that we have Baldy."
[Illustration]
VIII
A Tragedy without a Moral--and a Comedy with One
[Illustration]
[Illustration]