ONE SUMMER
The winning of the Solomon Derby marked a new era in Baldy's life. His
home-coming had been made both joyous and miserable by the various
attentions he had received. With his sensitive, shrinking nature, it was
a sore trial to be the center of attraction, and the object of constant
discussion. "Scotty" had warmly commended his record to Ben Edwards,
which was compensation even for the Woman's newly awakened and frankly
expressed admiration. She had almost wept on his neck, which was
embarrassing for an undemonstrative dog, and said he deserved a Carnegie
Medal--whatever that was--though she suggested, practically, a large
juicy beefsteak as an immediate compromise.
The neighbors conceded generously that it was more than they had
expected of an "old grouch." George Allan and Danny Kelly, from out
their superior wisdom in dog affairs, agreed that while improbable, it
had never been impossible for a freighter to develop into a racer under
favorable conditions. While most gratifying of all, Dubby came in to
express, with strenuous waggings of his stubby but eloquent tail, his
surprise and satisfaction that a member of a purely sporting fraternity
had distinguished himself so highly; had acted, in fact, in a manner
worthy of a dependable huskie. And Baldy, knowing that Dubby had himself
and his unblemished career in mind, felt that this was indeed the climax
of approval.
Gradually he was coming to realize that through his unremitting efforts
to be of service, and because of real worth, there was an attitude of
kindly interest manifested toward him that had taken the place of the
covert criticism and careless indifference that had once caused him so
much sorrow.
"Now that he's led once," confided Ben to George and Dan, "I don't
believe Baldy'll ever be satisfied again t' stay in the wheel. It seems
t' me that every minute he's awake he's tryin' t' do better in his work.
That race kinda roused him in every way."
"He'll never have to stay in the wheel," observed "Scotty." "The Derby
was a revelation to me in regard to Baldy. I confess frankly I didn't
think he was capable of the ability he showed that day and," with a
smiling glance toward the Woman, "there were those of less faith than
mine who were completely won over."
"If you mean me," she rejoined, "you are quite right. I've apologized to
Ben and Baldy every day since the Derby. I have even admitted that
Baldy's legs are as good as Jack McMillan's, if not better. Could
humility go further in making amends?"
And Baldy, who now saw the world through different and more friendly
eyes, learned that even the Woman was not wholly lacking in a certain
sense of discrimination as she had proved when she had felt the muscles
of his sturdy body and spanned the width of his broad chest with
unqualified approval.
After a complete rest of a week or more, the training began again; for
there was yet to be held the most important event of the year--the All
Alaska Sweepstakes, which takes place early in April.
The runs were much longer and harder than the preliminary dashes for the
Solomon Race; and sometimes they went back even to the Mountains which
rose, rugged and majestic, from the endless white wastes to a sky
brilliantly blue in the dazzling Arctic sunshine, or sodden and gray in
a storm.
Totally different in temperament and methods from Kid and Dubby, Baldy
manifested, nevertheless, many of the fundamental qualities that had so
distinguished those wonderful leaders. And in communion with "Scotty" in
their long hours of exercise, he not only began to understand the speech
and the touch of his hand, but also his unexpressed moods. He knew when
Allan was care-free, and satisfied with the team, or was discouraged by
some unexpected act of stupidity or disobedience, though no syllable was
spoken.
Not long before the Big Race, several unfortunate things happened in
the Kennel to make Allan believe it was, as the "Wonder Workers"
solemnly declared it, a "Hoodoo" year for the dogs. Rover wrenched his
shoulder in a friendly tussle with one of the Mego pups, Tom cut his
foot badly on a bit of broken glass, and Baldy developed a severe cold
that made him feverish and short of breath.
It seemed at first as if they might not be able to enter a team at all,
so many accidents combined against them; but the lure of the contest was
too much for "Scotty." "We'll do our best. Lots of teams go in that are
no stronger than ours at its weakest, and every entry that drops out
makes it less interesting. Then don't forget the luck of the trail, in
which you believe so thoroughly. Remember the Solomon Derby."
"I don't believe in working luck over time," she answered. "However, if
you really think it would make any difference in the sport, of course
we'll go in. I know you can do better," confidently, "with a poor team
than most men with a good one."
But "Scotty" shook his head decidedly. "Don't think it. Our antagonists
are all that they should be--men and dogs--and the most careful
driving will not always overcome the weakness of the team."
Since the driver may use his own discretion as to the length and
frequency of the stops to be made, he must have the ability to realize
exactly how much rest he may take himself and give his dogs without the
unnecessary loss of a moment. He must know what the other teams have
done, and are capable of doing; he must drive his own race, and he must
know how the other men are driving theirs. He must decide wisely how
many dogs it is well to use--that matter also being optional with him.
For it is an important point to select enough dogs to keep up to the
required standard, yet not too many for good team work, in which
individual peculiarities have been merged in general harmony of action.
No precaution is neglected to insure the comfort of the contestants.
Commissary teams sent out by the Kennel Club leave supplies at all of
the Road Houses and camps that are to be used as rest stations--drugs
for emergencies, and all sorts of luxuries that would be too bulky to be
carried in the racing sleds, but which are shared impartially at the
different stops.
Each man must be certain of the best food for his dogs, and the length
of time it takes to digest it. The usual diet of the Allan and Darling
Racers, rolled oats, dried salmon, and the oily nutritious flesh of the
white whale, with a proper amount of bone, now was changed to chopped
beef and mutton, cooked with eggs. This was put up in hermetically
sealed tins, with enough in each for a feeding; and every dog's
allowance wrapped separately in muslin so that there might be no loss of
time in dividing it into portions.
And in all of these things "Scotty" Allan was a past master. Yet in
spite of his efforts and skill, they came in not first, but second;
which was, according to George and Dan, "not so worse for a scrub team,"
and according to Ben, "mighty good considerin' they didn't have Baldy."
These days of ceaseless striving and untiring patience had been of great
benefit to Baldy. He no longer experienced despair over such a Kennel
misfortune; but cheerfully resolved that each failure must be a
stepping-stone, not a stumbling-block, in the march toward success.
There was one real sorrow that came to him that spring--a sorrow shared
by many--which swept away the passing regret for the lost race. Dubby,
full of years and honors, was dead, mourned by all. His obituary in the
newspapers not only testified that he was generally beloved, but was one
that many a man might be proud to deserve. "Alaska's Most Famous Leader
Passes Away." What untold stories of marvelous intelligence, of
unfaltering allegiance, of loving service lay in those simple words.
Baldy missed Dubby sorely, for there had grown a firm bond of sympathy
between them. The old huskie had learned that a character may dignify a
calling, and that a true heart often beats beneath a racing harness;
while Baldy had long since discovered that Dubby's aloofness was but the
inevitable loneliness of a Dog that has had his Day.
To divert his mind from sad memories, Baldy would go to look at Mego's
twelve, beautiful, fat new puppies, and then would dream of a
comfortable serene old age when he would be given the tutoring of such
promising youngsters, and help to make them winners of future All Alaska
Sweepstakes.
Then came the summer, and with it the play-time for the Kennel; a
summer filled with ever changing interests and pleasures.
"I'll be glad, 'Scotty,'" said Moose Jones, "t' keep till fall as many
dogs as you don't want in Nome. It's kinda hard t' have 'em tied up in
the fine weather, an' dogs like yours can't run 'round the streets
loose. Ben an' me's goin' t' be out t' Golconda, where I've got a crew
o' men at work. You may 'a' heerd I bought Golconda a few weeks ago, an'
I'm goin' t' mine there this season. Sold my ground over t' Marshall t'
a New York Syndicate that was nosin' round pretty sharp before I left;
and it's give me money enough t' take up this here property. Then I
leased my Dime Creek holdin's on royalties, an' that'll put me on my
feet even ef this Golconda claim ain't all I think. But I done a lot o'
prospectin' there once, an' it sure looks promisin'; an' besides it's
right next t' the Midas, an' fer the last couple years or more Barclay
has been takin' out wonderful pay there."
"I'd be glad to have you keep Baldy, Irish and Rover for us if you
will," replied Allan cordially. "George and Spot are inseparable in
vacation times, and McMillan," with a nod toward the Woman's house,
"seems to be under the impression, now that he is not in training, that
he is a lap dog, and rarely comes to the Kennel at all. Matt will take
the rest of them up to his cabin on Penny River, where they will have
all the exercise they want, and great fun hunting. You know I never have
a moment for them in summer, as it is our busy season in the office,"
and Allan, who was Secretary in the Big Man's Company, gave a sigh as he
realized that not until autumn would come again the happy Dog Days.
To Baldy it was a period of perfect joy--to be with Ben Edwards and
Moose Jones in the glorious freedom of the open country in the far
hills. Here the dogs did what their fancies dictated. They swam,
unmolested, in the ditch; ran for miles with their chum, the dappled
gray horse; gave chase to saucy, chattering squirrels, and even fished
so successfully that they were the admiration of all the camps about.
Irish and Baldy would stand in the riffles of a stream, and Rover,
leaping into the pools and quiet waters, would drive the fish up into
the shallows, where they were seized by his two companions, taken ashore
and dropped on the bank. Then they returned for more, keeping up the
sport till a bird in flight or some other fascinating moving creature
lured them away in a spirited pursuit through thick willows and across
green marsh-lands.
At night they slept, if they chose, in the Bunk House; and ate without
restriction such mysterious delicacies as cake and pastries.
No longer was Baldy ignored by the men, nor did it now take the threats
of Moose Jones to prevent the petty annoyances to which he had been
subjected formerly; for in winning the Solomon Derby he had proved his
worth and they were glad to give him well-earned praise.
Occasionally there would be a dissenter from the general admiration of
the dog. Black Mart, who sometimes came over from the Midas, never
failed to belittle the record he had made. "It's no test, that short
mush t' Solomon, an' it don't prove nothin'. Why, I've seen teams that
could do wonders in that there run that couldn't git as fur as Council
in the Big Race without goin' t' pieces. It takes somethin' more'n a
slinkin' half-breed like him t' lead a winnin' team in the Sweepstakes."
And Moose would retort sarcastically, "Mart, ef you was as good a judge
o' dogs as dogs is o' you--stop growlin' at him, Baldy--you'd have a
winnin' team in yourself, instead o' just jawin' about it."
One man's enmity mattered but little, however, in the general
friendliness Baldy experienced; and there were so many glorious things
to offset those infrequent encounters with the one person he
instinctively regarded with aversion.
Encouraging news had come from Dime Creek, and Golconda was proving rich
beyond the highest expectations of Jones; and many happy hours did he
and Ben spend in plans for the boy's future; a future that now seemed
near and bright.
"Even without Golconda, Ben," Moose would exclaim confidently, "I've got
enough salted away from them other deals to put you through all the book
learnin' you'll need t' make a reg'lar spell-bindin' lawyer o' you like
Fink, er a way up Judge, mebbe in Washington. An' with Golconda,--well,
Sonny, that there Arabian Nights chap that she was tellin' you about
wouldn't have nothin' on us fer adventure, an' doin' good turns to folks
unbeknownst, an' all that kind o' stuff," and Moose Jones would pat
the boy's shoulder affectionately.
Every week or so Baldy, with Irish and Rover and some of the Wild Goose
dogs from the Grand Central Ditch House near, would be hitched to a flat
car belonging to the place, and would have a trip into town with Moose
to take the gold dust from the "clean-ups" to the bank.
The car coasted down all the hills, for there was a strong brake to keep
it safe. And the dogs were either invited to ride with Jones, or were
permitted to get to the bottom as best pleased them with Ben, which
meant a scamper through fields of blue forget-me-nots and purple lupine,
over damp and mossy dells, and along the slopes where tiny birds were
hidden in cozy nests about which the frightened parents fluttered
divertingly.
[Illustration: THE CAR COASTED DOWN ALL THE HILLS]
It was indeed a treat; for always at the end of the jaunt there was an
interview with "Scotty" Allan, who was sure to look Baldy over carefully
and say fondly, "Well, how's my Derby hero to-day?" and give the
expected hearty greetings to Irish and Rover. Or possibly there would be
a brief visit to the Woman, who, whatever her faults, never failed to
produce a tid-bit of some sort for her canine callers.
She and Ben would dwell with keen delight upon his prospects of
attaining his ambitions. "And besides all Moose will do for you," she
announced one day, "Mr. Daly tells me he will be only too glad to be of
any assistance possible. He thinks a boy with your ideal--Lincoln--should
have all the help it is in his power to give."
Of course, surfeited at last with luxury and idleness, the dogs would
finally be eager to return to the duties of the winter; glad of the
season that brings the cheery sound of bells, the joyous barks of
recognition from passing friends, the snarl of challenge from passing
enemies, and all of the wholesome pleasures that belong to a busy,
useful life. But now they were quite care-free, and content, and the
responsibilities of the winter seemed far away indeed.
But the most treasured moments of all to Baldy were those spent with Ben
when, waiting for Moose to finish his evening's tasks, he and the boy
wandered along the winding banks of the ditch. Far away across the sedgy
tundra lay the sea, a line of molten gold in the last rays of the
belated June sunset. Behind them rose the snow-crested peaks of the
Sawtooth Mountains, like frosted spires against an amber sky. Soon the
amber would change to amethyst and deepen to purple--fading at last to a
shadowy gray; and all the world seemed steeped in the mystic calm of
those twilight hours before the early Northern dawn.
And in those hours the brooding stillness of nature was broken only by
the voice of man; for it was then, in that vast solitude, that from the
lips of Ben Edwards came ringing words, sonorous sentences, impassioned
appeals.
Baldy did not know it, but he was at such times a learned Judge moved
strangely by unexpected eloquence; a jury melted to tears by a touching
plea for clemency; a Populace swayed to great deeds by a silver-tongued
Orator. Even, on rare occasions, he was the Loyal Throng that stood,
silent and uncovered, before the White House steps, thrilled by the
fiery patriotism of Mr. Edwards, the President of the United States of
America.
Then, he was just Baldy, a faithful loving dog that trotted happily at
the heels of the ragged little boy whose unselfishness had given him
the great chance of his life.
There was no faltering in the devotion of boy or dog. They believed in
each other.
[Illustration]
XII
The Great Race
[Illustration]
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