Baldy of Nome

V

The Woman, The Racers, and Others

CHAPTER V

THE WOMAN, THE RACERS, AND OTHERS

Even after the boys' race, when George and Dan often singled him out for special use, and the joy of a run with Ben Edwards was almost an inevitable part of the day's program, there were still a number of matters that were distinctly trying to Baldy.

He could not, for one thing, quite figure out the Woman, nor reconcile himself to her constant presence and aimless wanderings about the place.

When "Scotty" and Matt, or even Danny and George came in, it was for some evident purpose; when the boy appeared, it was to see him exclusively, but it was different with her.

She apparently loved all of the dogs, but she had no idea of discipline, and casually suggested all sorts of foolish and revolutionary privileges for them that would have meant ruin in no time.

She held the tiniest puppies in her lap when she should have known it was not good for them, spent hours playing with the young dogs with no attempt at training; and he could not forget that she had tried, the first day he had ever met her, to drag him ignominiously into her sled.

Even Ben's evident friendliness toward her did not overcome Baldy's disapproval, though he frequently went with them for long walks which would have been far more agreeable could he have been with the boy alone. She quite monopolized his chum, talking so earnestly that the dog was almost ignored, and could only trot along with the consolation that Ben shared was better than Ben absent.

Then, too, she was not in the least discriminating, and told Tom, who perhaps had as many faults as any member of the team, that he had an "angel face"; spoke of Dick and Harry, clever imitators of their brother's misdeeds, as "The Heavenly Twins"; and alluded to Irish and Rover, gentle Irish Setters, as "Red Devils," which was so rankly unjust that Baldy, who knew not automobiles, was amazed at her stupidity. To Baldy the word "Devil" had an evil sound, for when he had heard it at Golconda it was generally associated with a kick or a blow. She even ostentatiously walked past the chained dogs sometimes, carrying fluffy Jimmie Gibson, the baby blue fox from the Kobuk, which was tantalizing to a degree. But when she let Jack McMillan put his paws on her shoulders, and lay his big head against her cheek, calling him a "perfect lamb" or a "poor dear martyr," in a tone that betrayed affectionate sympathy, Baldy turned away in disgust.

As a matter of fact these attentions and endearments were exceedingly unwise, for they were invariably directed toward the very dogs who were most apt to over-value physical charm and ingratiating tricks of manner.

But there was one thing more objectionable still that could be laid at her door—she was constantly lowering the general tone of the Kennel.

The stables where the Racers were kept gave shelter, also, to a few others whose merits warranted their sharing in the special care bestowed upon the fleet-footed Sweepstakes Winners. The latter all carried themselves with a conscious dignity that befitted their fame and aspirations; but gradually Baldy noticed that through the Woman there were being introduced a number of ordinary strangers who made use of the place, and were housed and fed, till it began to look like a transient dog hotel.

She brought them because they were tired and hungry, lame, halt or blind; or worse still, just because they "seemed to like her." No reason was too trivial, no dog too worthless. Matt shamelessly upheld her, "Scotty" submitted, while Baldy sulkily glowered at these encumbrances who were more fit for the pound than the Allan and Darling Racing Stables. For Baldy had but one criterion; that of efficiency as the result of honest endeavor. And it was indeed a trial for a conscientious plodder to see the ease with which idle canines possessed themselves of the comforts and privileges that by right belong alone to those whose industry has earned them.

Had Baldy been a French Poodle, with little tufts of hair cut in circles round his ankles, and a kinky lock tied with a splashing bow over his eyes, he would probably, with delicate disdain, have thought of her as lacking in "esprit de corps." As it was, being but a blunt Alaskan, he growled rather sullenly when she came too near, and considered that she had no more dog-pride than an Eskimo; and Baldy's contempt for her could suggest no more scathing comparison.

There was no jealousy in his objections, for he now fairly gloried in the sensation that Kid, Irish or McMillan created when they were in the lead; and as the two latter at least were dogs that were coldly indifferent to him, this was surely a test of his unselfishness.

He was perfectly willing, also, to welcome "classy" dogs, as George and Dan called them, like Stefansson, Lipton, or dainty Margaret Winston, from Kentucky. He even understood there were dogs, neither Workers nor Racers, who had gained a kind of popular distinction that was recognized by both the human and canine population of the City; and while it was impossible for him to comprehend the reason, he accepted the fact philosophically.

There was, for instance, Oolik Lomen, who was born on Amundsen's ship the "Gjoa" when on the voyage that resulted in the discovery of the Northwest Passage. Possibly on account of his celebrated birthplace, or because of his unusual appearance, Oolik was haughty to the verge of insolence; and to Baldy he represented the culmination of all the charming but useless graces of the idle rich. He did nothing but lie on the Lomen porch on a soft rug, or wander about with a doll in his mouth, much as a certain type of woman lolls through life carrying a lap dog.

Then there was the tramp Nomie, the pet of the Miners' Union, and the Fire Department. This fox terrier was a constant attendant at all important affairs of the town—social or political—at parades, christenings, weddings, and even funerals. At concerts or at the theatre he walked out upon the stage, and waited quietly near the wings till the program was finished. He went to church quite regularly, but was non-sectarian, and was just as apt to appear at the Eskimo Mission Chapel as at St. Mary's when the Bishop preached.

Rarely did he fail to be at all Council Meetings, informal receptions, and formal balls. At these he was untiring, and would select a couple for each dance and follow them through the mazes of the waltz and one-step with great dexterity; visiting between times with his many acquaintances.

The knowledge that Nomie assisted at every fire, and at all of the drills of the Life Saving Crew on the beach made Baldy feel that these social diversions were only an outlet for abundant vitality, since there were not fires and wrecks enough to keep him busy; and a poor little fox terrier, no matter how ambitious, is debarred by his size from the noble sport of racing, or the more prosaic business career of freighting.

So it really seemed, on the whole, that Baldy was exceedingly liberal in his estimate of dogs in general. And it was only his desire for a high standard in his own Kennel that prompted his aversion to those waifs and strays that she collected; who, of no possible use, were neither professional beauties like Oolik, nor society favorites like Nomie, and so really had no claim to any sort of recognition.

Neither did Baldy, because of his new associations and ambitions, gauge his opinions of all dogs by racing tests alone. He still believed implicitly in the dignity of labor; and his early residence amongst freighters had enabled him to recognize the fact that endurance and good common dog-sense are often of more value, even in a racing team, than speed and mere pride of carriage.

In the occasional intervals when no feminine presence upset the calm and system of his surroundings, there were periods when Baldy watched intently the habits and characteristics of the other dogs, and tried to fit himself to become a candidate for the Racing Team.

In this he was assisted by the boy, who was just as carefully studying Allan's methods with his dogs, and putting them in practice every time he took Baldy out for exercise. One was as eager for improvement as the other, and "Scotty" and the Woman often remarked the unflagging energy both displayed toward that end.

"Too bad that Ben's efforts are wasted on a dog that will never be much to boast of, at best. He has strength and patience, but that is about all. I believe, like George, that he lacks spirit."

Of course there had been no dramatic incidents in his life like those of Jack McMillan's; he was no paragon like Kid; nor had he manifested the marvelous intelligence of old Dubby. But on the other hand, there was really nothing tangible so far in his career to make her feel that he was incapable of development.

"You're wrong about Baldy," said "Scotty" thoughtfully. "I have been watching him ever since the Juvenile Race; and he has certain latent qualities that will make a good general utility dog of him for even a racing team. He may not prove a leader, but he's dependable, not apt to lose his head and stampede, as do some of the more spirited ones. He'll do his modest part yet, in a big event."

"Well, you'll have to show me," exclaimed the Woman, whose speech was now and then tinged unconsciously by her close fellowship with the Wonder Workers.

Even Dubby's favorable notice was now frequently attracted toward Baldy; and the fact that he was aspiring to belong to the Racing Team was mitigated to a certain extent in the venerable huskie's sight by a puppy-hood spent amongst the working classes. He was not born to an exalted position, a natural aristocrat, like Tom, Dick or Harry; and would not, as did they, glory in it ostentatiously. But if it came, he would accept it with a solemn sense of obligation to do his best anywhere it pleased his master to place him.

Unlike the Tolman brothers, McMillan, Irish and Rover, he did not curry favor by the happy accident of birth, beauty, or personal magnetism; and so Dubby began to bestow upon Baldy, for his modesty and industry, an approbation not accorded by him to many of the others in the Kennel. And Dubby's opinion of a new dog was worth much, for "Scotty" Allan himself respected the experience and sagacity that governed it.

Possessed of the colorings and markings of his wolf forbears, as well as their keen instinct in trail emergencies, Dubby combined with this the faithful, loving nature of the dog branch of the family.

In his merest infancy he had given promise of unusual ability—a promise more than fulfilled.

When hardly more than three months old he had learned the orders "Gee," "Haw," "Mush" and "Whoa" perfectly. And he was beginning to think a little for himself when the rest of the litter were still undecided whether "Gee" meant to turn to the right paw side, or the left paw side; and were hardly convinced that "Mush" was "Go on" and not a terse invitation to breakfast.

His later accomplishments were many. He could pick up an uncertain trail when concealed by three feet of soft, freshly fallen snow; he could tell if ice was thick enough to carry the weight of a loaded sled, when the most seasoned trailsman was deceived, and he could scent a camp for four or five miles with the wind in the right direction. Never but once in his life had he been known to take the wrong route to a given point. Then he mistook the faint glimmer of Venus, as she dimly showed above the dark horizon, for the lantern on the ridge-pole of a road house; which was poetic, but misleading, and proves that even dogs can come to grief through too much star gazing.

He was always driven "loose" on the rare and gala occasions when, at his own plainly expressed desire, he was placed again in temporary service. With that liberty he made it his business to see that no dog was shirking. A glance at a slack strap was enough to betray the idler; and an admonishing nip on the culprit's ear or flank was the cause of a reformation that was sudden and abject for a while at least.

The only punishment that had ever been meted out to Dubby for some indiscretion, or an act of insubordination, was to hitch him up with the rest of the team. There were no depths of humiliation greater, no shame more poignant, and for days after such an ordeal he would show a brooding melancholy that almost made the Woman weep in sympathy.

Now, pensioned and retired, with a record of over thirty thousand miles in harness to his credit, he lived a delightful and exclusive existence in his own apartments over the barn.

As he had taken Baldy into his favor, so too he included Ben in his rather limited list of favorites; and the boy never wearied of hearing from "Scotty" and the Woman their many tales of the huskie's remarkable achievements.

"Even if he ain't a Racer," was the child's admiring assertion, "everybody in the whole North knows Dub, and what he's done. I hope," wistfully, "that some day people'll speak o' Baldy jest like that."

"You can hardly expect that, Ben! Think of the hundreds and hundreds of good dogs that are never known outside of their own kennels. Baldy is obedient and willing, but it takes something extraordinary, really brilliant, or dramatic, to give a dog more than a local reputation. Of course there are a few, but very few, who have won such distinction. John Johnson's Blue Eyed Kolma was a wonder for his docile disposition and staying qualities. You can't match our Kid for all round good work, nor Irish for speed. And Jack McMillan—"

"I don't believe I'd specify McMillan's claims to fame, or shall we say notoriety," observed "Scotty," with a twinkle in his eye. "Then," he resumed, "there were Morte Atkinson's Blue Leaders, that Percy Blatchford drove in the second big race. When we met at Last Chance on the way back, Blatchford nearly cried when he told me how those setters had saved his hands from freezing. He had turned them loose to rest and run behind at will, knowing they would catch up at the next stop. In some way he had dropped the fur gloves he wore over his mittens, when he took them off to adjust a sled pack, and did not miss them for some time, until he ran into a fierce blizzard. Of course he could not go back for them, and he feared his hands would become useless from the cold. He was in a pretty bad fix, when up came the Blue Leaders, almost exhausted, but each with a glove in his mouth."

"Oh, that was fine," murmured Ben.

"Give me bird-dog stock every time," continued Allan, "with a native strain for strength and trail instincts. It's a combination that makes our Alaskans just about right, to my idea."

"Naturally I feel that our half-breeds are best, too. But I do wish," regretfully, "that they could all be the same sort of half-breeds—to make them more uniform as to size and style. With Kid and Spot part pointer, Irish and Rover part setter, Jack McMillan verging on the mastiff, and all the rest of them part something else, don't you think it looks the least little bit as if we had picked them up at a remnant sale?"

She caught sight of "Scotty's" face, full of shocked surprise.

"Don't say it," she exclaimed quickly; "both Ben and I know perfectly well that 'handsome is as handsome does.' I learned it in my copy-book, ages and ages ago. And it's true that they are the greatest dogs in all the world, but they don't quite look it. Of course the year you won with Berger's 'Brutes,' with that awkward, high-shouldered native, Mukluk, in the lead, I learned that looks do not go very far in Arctic racing. But certainly Fink's 'Prides' in their gay trappings of scarlet and gold did seem more to suit the rôle of Winners when Hegness came in victorious with them in the first race."

"At that, the 'Brutes' were the best dogs, and if it had not been for our delay of eighteen hours at Brown's Road House, where all of the teams had to lay up because of a howling gale, I am not at all sure that the 'Prides' would not have lost out to the 'Brutes' in that race too."

"That must have been a strange night. I know after that every one called Brown's 'The House of a Thousand Bow Wows.' How many were there?"

"Let me see; there were fifty-four racing dogs, thirty-five freighters, twenty-six belonging to the mail carriers, ten or twelve to casual mushers, and I think about the same number to Eskimo trappers. And all—men and dogs—in the one room, which, fortunately, was of pretty good size."

"Scotty" laughed heartily at the remembrance. "We, who were driving the Racing Teams, had put our leaders to bed in the few bunks there were; for we could not afford to take any chances of our leaders scrapping in such close quarters, and possibly being put out of commission. But an Outsider, a government official, I think, who was on his way to Nome as a passenger with the Mail Team, was pretty sore about it. Said 'it was a deuce of a country where the dogs slept in beds and the men on the floor.'"

"How perfectly ridiculous," said the Woman indignantly. "You might know he was not an Alaskan. He was as bad as that squaw who wouldn't give you her mukluks."

"What was that, Mr. Allan?" questioned the boy, eagerly.

"I'm afraid, Ben, that some of these incidents look a little high-handed, as though everything was allowable in a race, regardless of other people's rights; but they really don't happen often. This time I tore one of my water boots on a stump going through the trees by Council. At a near-by cabin I tried to buy a pair of mukluks a native woman had on, as I saw they were about the size I needed. She refused to sell, though I offered her three times their value. There was no time to argue, nor persuade, so finally in desperation her Eskimo husband and I took them off her feet, though she kicked vigorously. It saved the day for me, but it seemed a bit ungallant."

"It served her right for not being as good a sport as most of the Eskimos. And anyway, every one on Seward Peninsula, of any nationality, is supposed to know that whatever a driver or his dogs need, in the All Alaska Sweepstakes, should be his without a dissenting voice or a rebellious foot."

"Moose Jones used to say," quoted Ben rather timidly, "that most Malamutes are stubborn. Was the leader you spoke of, Mukluk, stubborn too, in the race you won with him?"

A TEAM OF SIBERIANS

The Woman shrugged her shoulders. "Let us hope for the sake of the sport that the matter will not be definitely decided for some time to come. If, as Mark Twain says, 'it is a difference of opinion that makes horse racing,' it seems to me it's about the widest possible difference of opinion that makes dog racing; and each year's races have made the difference more hopelessly pronounced."

"Well, there'll always be disagreements as to the merits of the various racing dogs; but for a good all around intelligent and faithful worker, I have never found a dog that could outdo Dubby here," and "Scotty" affectionately caressed the old huskie who had come into the Kennel with his friend Texas Allan, the cat, to find out what was interfering with an expected walk.

"Sometimes Dub and I used to have disputes about a choice of roads, the thickness of ice, or other details of traveling; but I will say that he always listened tolerantly to all I had to offer in the way of suggestions, and wagged his tail courteously to show there was no ill feeling, even if he did get his way in the end. And, frankly, he was generally right."

Which was, of course, only natural; for "Scotty" was, after all, only human, while Dubby had the eyes, ears, and nose of his wolf forbears.

Dubby was a licensed character indeed, but Baldy realized, as did the others, that his freedom was a reward of merit.

That he might not feel that his days of usefulness were over, he had been given the honorary position of Keeper of the Kennel Meat; and much of his life was now spent dozing peacefully before the meat-room door, though he was ever ready to resent a covetous glance from unduly curious dogs.

To be sure, there were besides the dignity and responsibility of his high office certain perquisites that he thoroughly enjoyed—one of which was the hospitality that was his to dispense.

He often invited old team-mates, or pitifully hungry puppies into his quarters, where he would treat them to dog biscuit, dried fish, or a drink of fresh water; but he never abused his privileges, and it was only the worthy or helpless that appealed successfully to his charity.

His ample leisure now permitted also the cultivation of certain refined tastes which had been dormant in his busy youth. He taught Fritz, the house dog, whose only method of expression heretofore had been an ear-piercing bark, to howl in a clear, high tenor, with wonderfully sustained notes; so that together they would sit on the stable runway and wail duets happily for hours at a time.

For his many virtues and great ability, as well as for these lighter accomplishments, Baldy conceived an admiration for Dubby that would have been boundless but for one weakness that was absolutely incomprehensible—the huskie's devotion to the cat, Texas.

It was a strange friendship in a place where a cat's right to live at all is contested every hour of the day, and where nine times nine lives would not cover a span of more than a few months at the most, as a rule. It had begun when Texas was little more than a kitten, and had wandered away one day from the warm kitchen fire, out into the shed, and from there into the street.

Delighted with her unaccustomed freedom, she chased a bit of whirling, eddying paper across a strip of snow, into the angle of a cabin; then turning, gazed into the face of a big, ferocious dog who was already licking his chops suggestively.

Since the prey was safely cornered, he generously decided to share the anticipated excitement with some boon companions. And so, giving three short, sharp cries and repeating the call several times, he was joined by two other malamutes who, eager for the fun of killing a cat, drew in close beside him.

It had all happened in a moment; but in that moment Dubby, out for exercise, came upon the scene. He was no lover of cats, be it understood; and he had often been guilty of making short work of one if it chanced to cross his path when he was in quest of adventure. But this was the Allan cat. He had often seen the girls carry it about in their arms; and while it seemed a strange perversion to caress a kitten when there were puppies about, or even babies, still the peculiarities of your Master's Family must be respected. Even, if necessary, to the extreme limit of defending their pet cats.

Then, too, there was something that had appealed to him in the plucky stand of the terrified little creature. Eyes dilated with fear, every hair on end, sputtering and spitting, she had unsheathed her tiny claws and was prepared to make a brave fight for her life. The chances were hopelessly against her—the dogs did not intend to let her run—and Dubby felt that it was butchery, not sport.

Also, if Texas was hurt, the girls would be sad, and cry, and not play for a long time. He knew, because that happened when their terrier Tige was run over. And so, with one bound, he jumped upon the instigator of the trouble, and caught him by the shoulder with his still strong, sharp teeth. The other dogs wheeled in surprise; and in an instant there was a battle as bloody as it was short and decisive. Dubby was a marvelous tactician—the others only novices, and in a very brief period there were three well-minced malamutes who limped disconsolately in different directions; leaving a conquering hero on the field, with the spoils of war—a ruffled gray kitten in a shivering state of uncertainty as to her ultimate fate, but too weak to make any further defense.

Dubby picked her up in his mouth, and carried her back to the house, where he carefully deposited her inside the shed, and waited until some one answered his scratches on the door.

It marked the beginning of a companionship that lasted for years. Every fine afternoon Dubby would take Texas out for a stroll; and even after she was a huge seventeen pound cat, well able to hold her own, it was a reckless dog indeed that showed any hostility toward Texas when Dub was her body-guard.

One readily comprehends that he might graciously accept her gratitude; but, as the French Poodle's People say, "Noblesse Oblige," and it certainly seemed unnecessary that a dog of his achievement should flaunt his affection for a mere cat in the eyes of the whole world.

While this caused strong disapproval in all canine circles, strangely enough it apparently made no difference in his standing with men and women. Mr. Fink, in his exalted position as President of the Nome Kennel Club, and one of the most brilliant lawyers in Alaska besides, always raised his hat to Dubby when they met, as a greeting from one keen mind to another; for the man had watched the skill of the dog on the trail, and knew that it was unsurpassed in the whole North. "Scotty" Allan never failed to give every evidence of his sincere regard, and the Woman had even perpetuated the undesirable association by having Dubby's picture taken with Texas when they were out on one of their daily promenades.

And so, admired by men and feared by dogs, the faithful huskie was singularly exempt from the tragedies of a neglected, forlorn old age.

Ben regarded Dubby with admiring interest; and pondering for a while on all that he had heard said, finally, "Do you think, Mr. Allan, you'll ever find any one dog that kin race like Kid and be as smart on the trail as Dub?" In his eagerness he did not wait for the reply. "Don't you s'pose if a dog's really good t' begin with, an' some one that loves him lots learns him all the things a' racin' dog's got t' know, that he'd turn out so wonderful that everybody in Alaska 'ud know how great he was—mebbe everybody in the world?"

The Woman smiled. "Have you any one in mind, Ben?"

"Yes, ma'am, no, ma'am; I was only thinkin'," he stammered as he earnestly listened for "Scotty's" answer.

"I would not be surprised if such a thing could happen, Sonny. You know pretty nearly all good things are possible to good dogs—and good boys."

And deep in his heart the boy vowed that he and Baldy would begin the very next day to show what can be accomplished by those who, loving much, serve faithfully.

VI

To Visit Those in Affliction

CHAPTER VI

TO VISIT THOSE IN AFFLICTION

"We got t' change these rules someway, George. There ain't a thing in 'em 'bout visitin' the sick an' dyin'. There's somethin' 'bout not usin' sick dogs, I remember, but that's all there is 'bout sickness; and that won't hardly do."

George considered the matter carefully as he read over the "Rules and Regerlations of the Anshent and Honroble Order of Bow-Wow Wonder Workers" in his hand. They were rather blotted, and decidedly grimy; but it was perfectly clear, as Dan had announced, there was nothing in them that suggested the duty of ministering to those in distress.

The Order had met that afternoon to decide upon the proper thing to be done in the case of Ben Edwards, who had been ill for two days with a severe cold, and absent from school.

With a sincere desire to emulate other Orders more Ancient than theirs, if not more Honorable, they felt that a fraternal call upon their suffering member was necessary.

"We ought t' take him somethin' to eat an' read," remarked George; "like Dad always does when he goes t' the Hospital t' see Masons, or Elks, or any of 'em that's broke their legs or arms in shafts, or fallin' off dredges an' things."

"It's all right t' take him eatables; but don't let's take him any stuff to read. It might make him worse. It's bad enough bein' sick, without havin' some readin' shoved onto you, too."

Dan, who was the Treasurer of the Wonder Workers, as well as holding other important offices, brought forth a can from under the hay in the corner of Spot's stall.

"We better see how much money we got before we talk 'bout what we'll take him."

"If there's enough, Dan, don't you think an ice-cream cone 'ud be fine; or do you think he'd ruther have some peanuts an' pop-corn?"

"Peanuts an' pop-corn's all right, or maybe some candy an' gum. You see if he can't eat the ice-cream it 'ud melt right away an' wouldn't be any good t' anybody. But the other stuff 'ud last, an' if he's too bad t' eat it, he could always give it to his mother, or some of his friends."

They carefully counted the thirty-five cents in the Treasury, and were deep in a financial debate when the Woman's voice broke in upon their important discussion.

"Hello, boys, where are you?"

"We never seem to be able to get any place that some one don't butt in on us," groaned Dan. "I'll bet if we went out on an ice hummock on Bering Sea that some Eskimo tom-cod fisher 'ud show up beside us t' fish through a hole in the ice. What do you s'pose she wants now?"

"I don't know, Dan. But let's tell her about Ben, and maybe she'll want t' take him the things t' eat, an' we can keep the thirty-five cents till he's well an' can help spend it some way he'd like better. P'raps on somethin' for the dogs."

"I was just coming to ask for him," she said when informed of Ben's illness. "I have missed him the last day or so, and wondered what was the matter."

Then, "Let's give him a party," she exclaimed quickly. "A cold isn't serious, and a party would cheer him up. Besides, I have been wanting to see Mrs. Edwards for a long time, and this is a good chance for a chat about the boy. And we'll invite Baldy too." She took some money out of her purse, and handed it to George. "You can both run downtown and get whatever boys like, and I'll go for a cake I have at home, and meet you here in fifteen minutes."

When they at last started for the Edwards house the boys felt that their modest mission of mercy had developed into quite a festive occasion. Their purchases ranged from dill pickles through ginger snaps to chocolate creams; while the Woman carried jellies and preserves and all sorts of dainties that inspired Dan with a sudden belief, confided to George, that invalidism, unmixed with literature, was not so much to be dreaded as he had always fancied.

"Depends on whether you get castor-oil or cake," was the pessimistic reply of one who had gone through bitter experiences along those lines. "This just shows what belongin' t' orders does for you, Dan. If Ben wasn't a member o' the Bow Wows, I'll bet he could 'a' died an' hardly any one would 'a' known it but his mother. An' now he's havin' a party give to him 'cause our Society kinda hinted to her what we was plannin' when she showed up." And for once an approving glance was cast toward the Woman.

"When I'm old enough," decided Dan, "I'm goin' t' belong t' everything. You can wear feathers an' gold braid in processions, an' have stuff like this when you're sick, an' bully funerals with brass bands when you're dead."

"Me too," agreed George heartily.

As they turned the corner into Second Avenue, a short distance from the Edwards cabin, an adventure befell them which was fully covered by Rule Seven of the "Rules and Regerlations" of their Order: "To help thoes in Trubble." It came at the very end, just next the important one which forbade any hint of sharp practice in dog trading; and had been added after they had listened to the Woman's story about King Arthur and his Knights.

"Just 'cause it's a dog man's order we needn't stop tryin' t' do things for people," George had announced when Rule Seven was being considered. And the others had felt, too, that their association with good dogs should make them more tolerant of human weakness and imperfection.

Down the street came a tiny Mother with a cherished doll-baby in its go-cart, out for an airing; and down the street, too, came Oolik Lomen, who had wandered away from his rug on the porch in search of diversion. He had mislaid his rubber doll, there was nothing to play with, and he was decidedly bored; when his covetous eyes fell upon the golden-haired infant, whose waxen beauty was most tempting.

The piratical instinct that was, perhaps, an inheritance, took possession of him completely; and with a rush he overturned the carriage, grabbing its occupant, and dashing away full speed toward the Lomen home.

The shocked parent, seeing her child snatched from her loving care so ruthlessly, broke into cries of distress. And the Wonder Workers, who were so solemnly pledged "To help thoes in Trubble," unceremoniously bestowed their various bundles upon the Woman, and started in pursuit.

Baldy, who had been quietly following, also joined in the chase—for he had watched the entire proceeding with disapproving eyes, and was only waiting for a little encouragement to help administer the punishment that Oolik so richly merited.

But that proud descendant of Viking Dogs, once behind his own fence, ostentatiously dragged the stolen one by a leg into a corner; and, seated in front of his victim, growled defiance in the very faces of the brave Knights who were attempting the rescue.

"George, you take the doll when I sic Baldy onto Oolik, and give it to the kid, an' come back quick. Believe me, it's goin' t' be a scrap worth seem' when those two dogs really get woke up to' it. I'll bet Baldy is pretty keen in a row if he thinks he's right; an' even if Oolik is too good lookin', you know Amundsen said his mother was the best dog he ever had, an' that's goin' some for a man like him."

Before the plans for the combat could be completed, however, Helen Lomen came out, overcome with regret for the tragedy, to lead Oolik into the house in disgrace. She was anxious to make restitution for any damage; but a close examination revealed the fact that there was no wound that a bit of glue would not easily cure, and the only real hurt was that given to the feelings of insulted motherhood.

The Woman was visibly relieved at the turn affairs had taken; for she had a purely feminine dread of dog fights, and had frequently stopped some that would have been of most thrilling interest in deciding certain important questions.

In an undertone the boys spoke of the vagaries of the gentler sex, and frankly admitted "they were sure hard t' understand," while the Woman tried unsuccessfully to make Baldy carry a small package.

"Do you think she'll ever learn," asked George rather hopelessly, "that a sled dog's got no use for little stunts like that? His mind's got t' be on bigger things."

"Here we are," called Dan, as they stopped before a tiny cabin almost snowed in, with a deep cut leading up to the front door.

A thin, pale-faced woman, with a pleasant manner, answered the knock.

"Mrs. Edwards, we've come to surprise Ben. May we see him?"

Ben's mother ushered them all, Baldy included, into a room plainly furnished, but neat and home-like.

"This must be Ben's day for surprises, for this morning Mr. Jones arrived from St. Michael."

"Here's Moose, that I've bin tellin' you about so much," and Ben, from a couch, nodded happily toward the large man who rose from a chair beside the boy, and shook hands cordially with them all.

"Yes, I come over by dog team. I leased my ground up at Marshall, an' thought I'd drop into Nome t' see if my friend Ben here was still aimin' t' be a lawyer, an' the very first thing I hear is that he's gone inter dog racin' with you an' 'Scotty' Allan. That is, that Baldy's in the racin' stable, which is pretty near the same thing."

"Oh, I haven't give up the idea of bein' a lawyer, Moose. She," nodding toward the Woman, "talks to me about it all the time; and 'Scotty's' goin' t' speak t' Mr. Fink the very next time they meet. 'Scotty' says he thinks Mr. Fink'll listen, 'cause he was so interested in Baldy after the boys' race, an' asked all about him. He said," in a tone in which triumph was plainly noticeable, "that he didn't know when he'd seen a dog with legs an' a chest like Baldy."

"I know a good dog is about the best introduction you can have to Mr. Fink; but if for any reason that fails, I'll have a talk with Mr. Daly and tell him that you want to be another Lincoln, as nearly as possible, and that will appeal to him," confidently remarked the Woman.

"You got the right system in this here case," chuckled Moose Jones. "Ef you was t' tell one o' them lawyers that you jest couldn't git the other one interested in the boy, it's a dead cinch he'd git inter one office or t'other; an' it don't make much difference which. They're both mighty smart men, even ef they don't go at things the same way. Well, anyway, Ben, I'm glad I kin depend on retainin' you when my claims begin t' show up rich, as I kinda think some of 'em's bound t' do, one place or another. On my way back t' Nome, I stopped at them new diggin's at Dime Creek, an' staked some ground; an' it's a likely lookin' country, I kin tell you."

From the first instant he had heard the sound of the man's voice, Baldy had remained motionless, but intent, trying to recall their past association; then with a bark he rushed up to Moose Jones, showing every possible sign of recognition and joy.

"Well, well," exclaimed Moose, "ef this ain't Baldy o' Golconda! Why, I didn't know him right away, he's so sorta perky an' high-toned; all along of gettin' in with a speedy bunch, I expect," and the man stroked the dog affectionately.

"Isn't he fine?" cried Ben eagerly. "I just wish you could 'a' seen him the day o' the race; but George'll tell you all about it—how he wouldn't let Spot an' Queen bolt, an' how willin' he was an' all."

"Yes, indeed, the boys must tell you all about that famous event, Mr. Jones, while I talk to Mrs. Edwards about something else."

Before going into the details of the race, which never palled upon Ben, they described with much gusto the defeat of Oolik Lomen in the first Great Adventure the Wonder Workers had undertaken; and Ben bitterly regretted that he could not also have been one of the brave knights who had so valorously risen in defense of the weak and distressed against the strong and unprincipled.

But Dan consoled him somewhat by the information that the incident had been almost spoiled by interference; and that the next time they performed deeds of chivalry he hoped it would be when no female was about, unless, indeed, it might be a victim to be rescued from a terrible plight.

In the brief chat the Woman had with Mrs. Edwards she learned a little of the hardships that had fallen to the lot of the boy and his mother, and realized in spite of their courage and reticence that they had endured a hard struggle for almost a mere existence.

"Don't you think it would be easier for you outside, where there are not so many physical discomforts to be considered?"

"Perhaps. But my husband left a little mining ground that may, in time, prove worth while if developed; and I have remained where I could look after it, and see that the assessment work was properly done. As it is, a man named Barclay—Black Mart Barclay, they call him—jumped the claim next to his, and if it had not been for Mr. Jones I should have lost it. He loaned me the money to take the matter into the courts, where I won out."

"And the boy?"

"He is my one thought," responded Mrs. Edwards. "As a young child he was rather delicate, and we could not send him to school because of the distance. Since then his association with the men at Golconda has done much to offset what I have tried to do for him. Before my marriage I taught school in a village in New Hampshire, though you would hardly suspect it to hear Ben speak. I wanted to get a position in the school here; but nowadays there is so much special training required that I found I was not fitted for the work; and I have just had to take what I could get from time to time. At any rate," with a cheerful smile, "we are still alive and have kept our property."

"It was brave," murmured the Woman, whose eyes were misty; "very brave."

"Now that Ben is going to school regularly," the other continued, "he will, I think, soon lose this roughness of speech; and you can see that he is anxious to learn, and is ambitious."

"Yes, indeed; I have found him really unusual."

"Mr. Jones told us this morning that if his mining ventures turn out well, and they certainly look as if they might, that he will send Ben to college. He was my husband's partner at one time, and has always taken a great interest in the boy."

"I am so glad," was the response. "I have felt all along that some way should be found to make such a thing possible. The child deserves it. Some day soon, if you will let me come again, we will make some wonderful plans for his future. But I came to-day to ask you if you will let Ben go on a trip to the Hot Springs with us next week? I am sure it would do him a lot of good to be in the open air, and perhaps he would enjoy the outing."

"I should be glad to have him go; as to his enjoyment—just see what he says."

Ben listened breathlessly while the Woman told of the prospective outing. "I am to go with 'Scotty' and nine or ten of the racing dogs, and Pete Bernard, with twelve big huskies, is to take my husband. As Pete will have a sled load of freight for Shelton and the Springs, we thought you had better go with 'Scotty' and me; that is, of course, if you would like to make the trip. I believe that 'Scotty' intends driving Baldy, if that is any inducement."

Ben could hardly reply for excitement and happiness.

"Well then," and the Woman rose, "it is quite decided that you are to go. I dare say George and Dan—and Baldy—will want to remain a while. We have talked so much and so fast that I had really forgotten the 'party' we came to give you, and it is time for me to leave if I keep another engagement. If you are able to get out to-morrow, Ben, bring your mother and Mr. Jones over to the Kennel, and we will introduce them to some of our distinguished dog friends."

Mrs. Edwards and Moose Jones followed her to the door. The former, with a warm hand-clasp, faltered a few words of thanks; and Moose, with some embarrassment, said in an undertone, "I'm much obliged, ma'am, fer what you and 'Scotty''s done fer the kid an' the dog. Ben used t' come t' my cabin when I was kinda lonely an' discouraged at Golconda; an' havin' him 'round learnt me that you got t' have some one that you love, t' work fer, if you want t' git the best out o' things an' people. Now Mrs. Edwards says I kin give Ben his eddication, which'll pay back somethin' o' what his father done fer me once when I was considerable down on my luck. And," with enthusiasm, "believe me, you kin bet it'll be some eddication, ef I have my way, an' them claims pan out the way they look now."

So potent a cure was the delight of the coming excursion that Ben was over not only the next day with Moose Jones, but every day after, until the time for the departure arrived; for there were many interesting matters to be settled. The most absorbing was, naturally, the selection of dogs for the journey; and there were long discussions by all concerned before the team was finally chosen.

The Woman's suggestions were, as usual, well meant; but were almost invariably influenced by personal preferences rather than sound judgment. And "Scotty" had to firmly repress her desire to thrust the greatness of a Trail Career upon some of those for whom he had other achievements in mind.