Baldy of Nome Part 6

George and Dan had discussed the matter fully in the preceding days, and had decided that, like "Scotty," they would do all of the real driving on the way home. So it was not at all disconcerting, some time before they reached the turn, to meet two of the teams coming back. The third, Jim's, had been diverted at the Road House by a large family of small pigs in an enclosure surrounded by wire netting; and Jim's most alluring promises and his direst threats were both unavailing against the charms of the squealing, grunting creatures, the like of which his spellbound chargers had never seen before.

Dan was several hundred feet ahead of George, and the latter could but look with some misgivings at the even pace of Judge, Jimmie and Pete; a pace that as yet showed no sign of weakening. Of course should Mego's pups prove faster than his own team, he would loyally give all credit due the driver and dogs; but it would be a bitter disappointment indeed if Spot did not manifest the wonderful speed that Matt had always predicted for him, and if there was no evidence in superior ability, of the long hours of careful attention that George had devoted to his education as a leader.

When Dan's team finally rounded the pole, and was headed toward him, George realized that the work of Mego's sons evinced not only mechanical precision, but the intelligence of their breeding, and the advantages of their early training by "Scotty." Dan would indeed, as he had boasted, "give them a run for their money."

"_Mush_, Spot, Queen, Baldy," and there was a slight increase in briskness, which was checked again as they swung by the guard.

"Now then, Spot," and George gave a peculiar shrill whistle that to the dog meant "Full Speed Ahead."

He watched the distance between himself and Dan decrease slowly at first; then more rapidly until they were abreast of one another. True to their compact they did not speak, and the inclination of Spot to stop for the usual visit beside his stable mates received no encouragement.

Instead he got a stern command to "Hike, and hike _quick_!"

Beyond were the other teams, almost together, and to George it seemed as if he barely crept toward Bob and Bill; though there was a steady gain to the point where he could call out for the right of way to pa.s.s--a privilege the driver of the faster team can demand.

But just behind him came Dan, whose dogs now felt the inspiration of the stiff gait set them by their friends; and both boys knew that from now on the race was between them alone.

George was more experienced in handling dogs, but Dan's dogs were easier to handle. It was narrowing down to a question of the skill of the driver on one side, pitted against the excellence of the dogs on the other. Unless, indeed, Spot, Queen or Baldy should rise to the occasion in some unexpected manner; or the Luck of the Trail, that the Woman believed was so potent a factor, should enter into the contest.

They were approaching the last quarter of the course, where the road from Monroeville crossed the trail diagonally. George glanced back and saw that he would have to travel faster still to shake off Dan's tireless "Pupmobile."

For a moment he wondered despairingly why he had been so short-sighted as to choose three unknown quant.i.ties in such an important event, leaving to Dan those whose worth was a foregone conclusion. Then his sporting blood rose. If no one ever attempted anything new, it would be a pretty slow old world. And if he had not the courage to try Spot out, his pet might remain an ordinary, commonplace dog to the end of his days; a condition that would be intolerable to George. Then, too, it would have been a disappointment to Ben if Baldy could not have entered; and Ben's feelings were now of much consequence to George and Danny, as they had admitted him, a third member, to their exclusive secret society, "The Ancient and Honorable Order of Bow-Wow Wonder Workers."

Better defeat than a fair chance not taken; and so, at such thoughts he was cheered and again whistled to Spot to "Speed Up."

But just at that instant there came, down the Monroeville Road, and around the base of a small rise of ground, a Native hunter over whose shoulder was hung a dozen or more ptarmigan, the grouse of the North.

Spot paused instantly, and seemed petrified in an att.i.tude which his distant grandsires, old in field work, might have envied for its perfect immobility. The fact that the birds were dead and on a string meant nothing to his untutored mind. They were birds, and as such were worthy of a close and careful inspection.

Simultaneously Queen's hatred of Eskimos received an impetus; and joined by the now aroused Spot, she started off the trail toward the unconscious cause of her deep-seated antipathy.

"A double-ender," groaned George; "dead birds, and an Eskimo. Spot and Queen won't show up till everything's over but the shoutin'. I'll just about tie for fourth place if Jim gets his pups away from the pigs about the time Queen finishes with the hunter."

But tug as desperately as they might, neither Spot nor Queen succeeded in pulling the sled more than a few feet; for added to George's weight on the brake, Baldy, calm and immovable, was braced against the efforts of the other two.

Spot's ungainly feet pawed the snow impatiently, as he strained in his collar stretching the tow-line so taut that George feared it might snap.

Equally unavailing were Queen's sudden leaps and frantic plunges. The more they struggled, the more firmly Baldy held to the trail.

At last George's stern reproofs, and a certain reasonableness in Spot that prompted him to accept the inevitable gracefully, combined to end the disturbance. Besides, the birds did not run nor fly, so they were not much fun anyway.

Not for Queen, however, was any such placid acceptance of defeat. Balked of her expected prey, she turned fiercely against her wheel-mate, whom she rightly considered responsible for her inability to bolt; and after one or two efforts, she fastened her teeth in his ear, leaving a small wound from which the blood trickled, staining his collar and shoulder.

George expected Baldy to retaliate, but instead the dog ignored the attack and still held his ground with a determination that even Queen recognized, and to which she finally submitted unwillingly.

But in the time it took to adjust their difficulties, Dan caught up with them, and together the two teams dashed down the trail, neck and neck.

Dan longed to shout some facetious criticisms of the behavior he had just witnessed, but a certain sympathy for his rival, who was also his friend, restrained him; as well as the desire to conserve every atom of energy he possessed, even to saving his breath.

For a few hundred yards there was no perceptible difference in their positions; then gradually the Mego Pups pulled away and took the lead by a small margin.

Nose to the back of Dan's sled came Spot, and so they sped on and on till the bridge and high bank of Dry Creek came into view, as well as the moving dark objects that the boys knew to be the crowds awaiting their return.

George, desperately anxious to try the signal that would urge his leader to his utmost, waited till they reached the top of a slight incline. Then the whistle sounded low, but clear. Spot leaped forward, and Queen and Baldy were no laggards in his wake.

Once more they were abreast of the "houn' dogs," and once more the tried and untried of the same Kennel raced side by side, with even chances of victory.

Then again came the Luck of the Trail; and Fate that had sent dead birds as a temptation now sent a live cat as an inspiration. It was black and sleek and swift, and fairly flew from a clump of willows by the wayside, up the trail toward a cabin on the edge of town; and after it flew Spot, all eagerness for the chase.

Dan's team, as indifferent to the fascination of swift, sleek cats as only dogs of "Scotty's" training could be, were pursuing the even tenor of their way in no wise excited by the episode.

When the cat darted out of sight to safety George's dogs were almost at the starting point and the crowds had hurried to meet them; keeping free only a narrow pa.s.sage down which they dashed with unabated speed. For while they were tired, and home and rest were near, the cheers and applause of the people egged them on till they crossed the line, where George was greeted as Winner of the First Annual, Juvenile Race of Nome.

He had covered the course of seven miles in thirty minutes and six seconds, while two minutes behind came Dan, just in time to offer loyal homage on the altar of friends.h.i.+p and success. There was a warm clasp of the hand, and a sincere if brief tribute. "You are some swell racer, George," and, as one making a vow, "you can bet I'll never throw rocks at another black cat so long as I live."

Shortly Bob and Bill arrived, well pleased that they were so close to the Victor--but there was no sign of Jim; whereupon Mr. Kelly delivered himself of a scathing comment. "I guess next time Jim 'd better enter the High School Girls' Handicap; these real races ain't any place for him."

The presentation of the tiny Trophy Cup was a formal function. George, held up in the Judge's arms that he might be seen as he received it, was filled not only with present pride, but also with an inward determination to devote the rest of his existence to the high calling of dog racing; with perhaps an occasional descent into the lower realms of school affairs and business, as a concession to the wishes of his parents and in deference to their age and old-fas.h.i.+oned ideas.

His happiness in the accomplishment of his dogs was complete. His hard work in their training had been fully repaid; for Spot had not only proved his cleverness as a leader, but Queen had been no worse than he had antic.i.p.ated, and Baldy had faithfully performed his duty as a wheeler in keeping the trail when it was most necessary.

It was a triumph worth while for the boy and the team.

That night at a full meeting of the "Bow-Wow Wonder Workers," the exciting affairs of the day were discussed at length.

Dan announced that he could recommend the Mego Pups to "Scotty" without a single unfavorable criticism. If there had been any weakness, it was, he admitted freely, in his driving. "I don't seem to put the ginger into 'em the way George does at the finish. But I guess he takes it from his father; and my dad," regretfully, "never drove anything better 'n horses in his whole life. Then there was that black cat, too."

Ben Edwards, with his arm around Baldy's neck, listened with delight as the minute details of the race were given by those who knew whereof they spoke. He was proud indeed when George told how Baldy had steadfastly held out against the efforts of Spot and Queen to bolt; and of the dog's stoical indifference to the bitten ear, which was, fortunately, only slightly torn.

"I guess, Ben, that Baldy'll be somethin' like old Dubby. You can count on him doin' the right thing every time. He'll pull 'most as strong as McMillan, and he sure was good not to chew Queen up, the way she tackled him. But I don't know," judicially, "that we can make a real racer of him. He don't seem to have just the racin' spirit. He ain't keen for it, like Spot. But he's a bully all 'round dog, just the same."

"Mebbe it's cause he don't understand the game," answered Ben loyally.

"Moose Jones allers said that Baldy had plenty o' spirit; an' I kinda think he's like the s.h.i.+p she was tellin' us about the other day. He ain't really found himself yet."

The Woman, perfectly unconscious that she was penetrating into a serious and secret Conclave of an Ancient and Honorable Order, came into the Kennel with the evening paper.

It contained an article complimenting George upon his skill in managing a difficult team, and upon introducing Spot, an infant prodigy, to the racing world of the North. Then it announced, in a delicate vein of sarcasm, that one of the wheel dogs had been the most recent notable addition to the Allan and Darling Kennel--Baldy, late of Golconda, now of Nome, "a likely Sweepstakes Winner." At which the Woman had sniffed audibly, and "Scotty" had chuckled amiably. But Ben Edwards crept that night into his hard cot with the paper tightly clasped in his grimy hand, to dream of Baldy's future triumphs.

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V

The Woman, The Racers, and Others

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