SHE HAD BEEN A MEMBER OF ONE OF THE MAIL
TEAMS
Eric Johnson, U. S. Mail Carrier on the Nome-Unalakleet Route
"I do wish you would take Mego," she urged. "The dear old thing simply loves sled work, and you never give her anything to do nowadays but bring up families."
"And why not?" demanded "Scotty." "There is not another dog-mother in all Nome who can so intelligently care for a family." Which was true; for added to her natural fondness for those dependent upon her, she had wide experience in the ways of dogs and people, and was thoroughly familiar with the dangers that beset the path of puppy-hood.
When young she had been a member of one of the Mail Teams and had worked hard for her living. The run of over two hundred and thirty miles between Nome and Unalakleet was covered many times during the winter; and the Mail Carrier, who has the chance to observe carefully the individual behavior of the dogs he uses, was much attracted to Mego. Her patient industry was a happy contrast to the actions of some of the others, who were unruly and quarrelsome, or disinclined to do their share of the necessary labor; and it was with such a high recommendation that "Scotty" had bought her.
"If she only had to care for her own puppies it would not be so bad," the Woman complained; "but every once in a while some light-minded gad-about roams around at will, or runs away, and leaves her offspring for Mego to raise. Why, sometimes you would think she was the matron of a Puppies' Day Home."
To her credit it may be said that whether the puppies were hers or another's, Mego was untiring in her gentle supervision of their minds and manners. She taught them to be respectful and wag their tails prettily when addressed; not to jump and place muddy paws on those who came to see them, and not to wander away alone, nor associate with strangers. And the task was often difficult, for there were many alluring temptations and many bad examples.
"But she positively enjoys it," insisted "Scotty." "When her own little ones outgrow her care, she is always watching for a chance to annex at least one member of any new litter in her neighborhood. Only last week she heard the faint squeaks and squeals of Nellie Silk's malamute pups, and I caught her tunneling under the manger to try to get to them. Mego's kidnapping is the one scandal in the Kennel."
"I suppose they were siren calls, not to be resisted. And anyway, that is the only blot on her otherwise spotless character. She possibly does it for the excitement; and if you will let her go in the Hot Springs team she will have something else to think about. If you don't give her a new interest," was the sinister and gloomy prophecy, "stealing puppies will very likely become an obsession with her."
But Allan was not to be persuaded. "She gets all of the exercise and pleasure that she needs here about the place. If she went away only think of the things that might happen to her youngest family. You know how careless Birdie is with them."
"That's so," with a sigh. "I had quite forgotten Birdie," and she recalled with regret the habit of that half grown stag-hound of dropping bits of food into the corral, between the wires, to make friends of the little ones; and then after working at the fastening of the gate till it could be opened, enticing them out for a frolic.
Mego knew, as well as did the Woman and "Scotty," that Birdie meant no harm. On the contrary, she had excellent qualities, and deserved much credit for the valuable assistance she rendered as a self-constituted Secret Service Agent, and an ardent Advocate of Universal Peace.
When there was a quarrel in the Nursery, and the puppies became violent, she gently separated them and gave the defeated one a cherished if somewhat ancient bone that she had buried for such occasions; occasions when material consolation is needed to forget material ills.
In case of serious trouble she would rush for help, whining anxiously, and frequently her prompt action in bringing Matt prevented fatal terminations to neighborhood feuds, race riots, or affairs of honor between dogs with irreconcilable differences of opinion on important subjects.
But when Birdie was not doing detective work, or holding Peace Conferences, she was lonely and craved the companionship of the frisky pups. And while Mego was certain that her character was above reproach, as well as her motives, she realized also that the stag-hound was heedless. And the wise mother had always in mind the perils that lurk in the hoofs of horses, the wheels of wagons, and the hovering Pound-man; and never relaxed her vigilance in guarding her family against such dangers.
"Well then, leaving out Mego, what dogs shall you use besides Kid, Tom, Dick, Harry, Spot, and McMillan? I told Ben that you would take Baldy."
"Yes, Baldy, and probably Rex. I have been considering Fisher and Wolf, too. Fisher has been rather indolent and indifferent, and I have never given Wolf a good run since I bought him of that native boy, Illayuk."
"Why not Jemima? You have never given her a really good run either, and she is no more inexperienced for the trip than is Wolf. As a matter of fact, I have been training her quite a bit myself lately, and I find that she is enthusiastic and good-tempered."
"Scotty" repressed a smile with difficulty. "Of course if you've been training her that's different."
He had seen her several times trying to make Jemima jump over a stick, beg for a bone, and stand on her hind legs—quite useless accomplishments, as George and Dan had agreed, for a sled dog. And he had also heard her words of advice to the progressive little dog, who did indeed seem to be anxious to create a place for herself amongst the best in the Kennel.
"Jemima," the Woman would warn her solemnly, "there are lots of things the Females of the Species have to learn early, if they would avoid trouble in this world. The very first of all is to let yourself be well groomed, make the most of the gay pompoms on your harness, and cultivate tact above all things. Never make a public nuisance of yourself. Be steadfast, but not militant; and do not snarl and snap, tear children's clothing, nor upset the puppies' food dish, even though you are dissatisfied with existing conditions. But instead, never forget there are wonderful opportunities even in a dog's life, and be ever ready and waiting to use them when they come. Now shake hands."
As a concession to the Woman's fondness for Jemima, rather than to her training, "Scotty" decided to let her go with them; and to her great delight, and to Baldy's unbarkable dismay, for Baldy had but little regard for ambitious females, she was placed in the wheel with him.
And so, with Kid in the lead, Baldy and Jemima in the wheel, Tom, Dick, Harry and the others arranged to the best advantage; with the Woman covered to the eyes in furs, and surrounded by bags, rugs, and carriage heaters, and Ben comfortably tucked away in the midst; and with "Scotty" Allan at the handle-bars, they were finally ready for the start to the Springs.
Mrs. Edwards and Moose Jones had joined the Allan girls, George, Dan and Matt at the Kennel, to wish the travelers a pleasant journey; and as he waved a last farewell to them before the team dropped over the brow of the hill, Ben observed gaily, "Well, I guess Ben Hur and all o' them old chariot racers didn't have nothing much on Alaska racin' dog teams when it comes t' style an' speed an' excitement."
VII
The Dawn of a To-morrow
CHAPTER VII
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.
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.
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."
VIII
A Tragedy without a Moral—and a Comedy with One
CHAPTER VIII
A TRAGEDY WITHOUT A MORAL—AND A COMEDY WITH ONE
Life at the Kruzgamapa Hot Springs offered a pleasant relaxation from the business cares and social duties of Nome. There was very little driving for the dogs, but they were allowed to chase every big beautiful white hare they could find, pursue a red fox if they were so lucky as to start one, and watch the flocks of ptarmigan that fluttered near enough to be a constant lure.
They were out by day with the Big Man and Ben to look for game, and once nearly went wild with excitement when they saw an Eskimo take a large gray lynx from his trap. That was the sort of a cat that would be worth while as a friend or foe; and Baldy remembered Texas Allan with added disdain.
Occasionally natives with their sleds drawn by reindeer would pass that way. And if they could elude "Scotty's" vigilance it was great fun to dash after the awkward, stubborn beasts who so disliked them; and who somewhat threatened, in the more remote interior, to break up the monopoly of the Northern Dog Transportation Company, Unlimited.
At night they were taken for long walks by the Woman and Ben. Out over the snow that crackled sharply in the clear, crisp air; out where the stars seemed strangely close, the moon strangely bright—and where across the heavens waved the luminous, ghostly banners of the Northern Lights.
Time now meant nothing. It was the Land of Day After To-morrow, where the obligation of definite hours for definite duties did not exist.
And because there was a vacation freedom in the very atmosphere, sometimes they stole into the big living-room of the Road House, two or three at a time; and lying in the shadowy twilight they would listen, in drowsy content, to the cheery snap of the wood in the huge ruddy stove, and to the voices of their friends as they talked of the North, its hardships, its happiness, its hopes.
KRUZAMAPA HOT SPRINGS
The great world "Outside," and its troubles, seemed far away.
International difficulties, the Fall of a Monarchy? Interesting of course, but on the last Holiday, Charles Johnson, with his marvelous Siberians, supplemented the previous Siberian triumph of John Johnson by winning the Solomon Derby of that year; making the course of sixty-five miles in but little more than five hours. That was something to worry one.
Suffrage? Desirable for many places, naturally. Though in Nome a woman could be a member of the Kennel Club, enter a racing team, and vote on school matters, long before the franchise was given her by the Legislature in Juneau. And surely that, all agreed, had been as liberal a policy as any reasonable female should have demanded from any community.
The Tariff, Panama Canal news, and graft prosecutions? Well, of course, one discussed such affairs casually; but after all, the Dog Question in all its phases was of far more immediate importance to Alaskans. And so they spent many an hour in reminiscences and prophecies; and were thrilled over and over again with the excitement of the great contests they had witnessed—lost and won; basing predictions for the future on the achievements of the past.
Then the dogs would be roused by the entrance of the Eskimo hunters, who stopped in the dusk of the evening on the way back to their settlement at Mary's Igloo, to barter for their day's bag. And later they sniffed with keen pleasure the wonderful smells from the adjoining kitchen; smells of broiled trout, reindeer steaks, and Arctic grouse—and fainter, but more delicious still, the odor of their own meal being cooked in the tent beside the cabin door.
They remained at the Springs a couple of weeks; and delightful weeks they were, too, but for one unfortunate incident, which was precipitated because of Tom's aristocratic race prejudice.
He had always hated Eskimo dogs; choosing either to ignore his own huskie blood, or feeling that it was superior to the native strain in the malamutes of the coast—just as some people boast of being descended from Pocahontas, but would shudder at the mere idea of a Siwash Squaw ancestress.
At all events, Tom had resented the entrance of the Eskimo, Wolf, into the Kennel; and never failed, when "Scotty" was not about, to manifest an enmity that would have told a civilized dog not to attempt any liberties with him. But Wolf was only an ignorant puppy, taken from a native igloo, where all of the dogs and all of the family lived in happy harmony; and so, one day when he was particularly joyous, he nipped, in a spirit of mischief, the end of Tom's wagging stump of a tail. Tom wheeled instantly, his hair bristling and his jaws apart, but the timely arrival of Matt made further demonstration impossible; and Tom's instinctive dislike for Wolf grew into an obsession after that direct and personal insult.
In their well-appointed quarters in Nome, with each dog in his own stall, revenge was out of the question; and when in harness, or out with Matt for exercise, there was as little chance for settling a grievance as there would be with soldiers on parade. But at the Springs Tom's opportunity came.
The small stables were overcrowded, there being seventy dogs in camp belonging to storm-bound travelers. It was necessary to chain them closer together than "Scotty" felt was wise, though he was not prepared for the tragedy that greeted him when he went out one morning to see that all was well with the team.
Every dog rose to greet him, as he came in with the Woman and Ben, except Wolf, who lay dead, strangled with his own collar.
The muscular body, so supple and vigorous but a short time before, was stiffening fast; and there were signs of a struggle desperate but ineffectual.
"Oh, 'Scotty,' can't you do something for poor Wolf?" and the tears came to the Woman's eyes as she laid a pitying hand on the handsome head of the tawny malamute.
"It's too late," said Allan regretfully. "He was a good dog, too; and would have made a strong addition to the team, properly handled."
A careful examination showed that on the left hind foot were traces of blood and marks of teeth; and there were but two dogs who could have reached Wolf to stretch him till he choked—Baldy and Tom.
The Woman looked accusingly toward Baldy. "I suppose he did it. He probably does not realize how wicked it was, he has had so little discipline as yet."
Anxious to defend the dog, Ben answered impulsively, "I'm quite sure Baldy wouldn't do a thing like that. He's been friends with Wolf; I saw them playing together only yesterday. And it really ain't a bit like Baldy t' be cruel an' sneakin'—t' lay fer a dog that didn't have a chance agin him."
"But surely Tom, after all of his years of training, would not have attacked one of his own stable-mates. Such a thing has never occurred before in our Kennel. I fear, Ben, it must have been Baldy."
But "Scotty" was not so confident. "I agree with Ben; it's not like Baldy. I have never found him quarrelsome, nor vindictive. And I hate, too, to believe Tom guilty. You know I never punish a dog on circumstantial evidence; so I am afraid this cold-blooded murder will have to be passed over, unless we can be certain of the criminal. There is always the possibility that a stray dog may have been responsible."
"Well, don't saddle it onto the Yellow Peril," exclaimed the Big Man, who came in to see what was the matter. "He is popularly supposed to start every dog fight in Nome; but this time he can prove a clear alibi, for he slept at the foot of my bed all night." Thus exonerated, the Peril passed by the line of chained dogs, bumping into them in a perfectly unnecessary manner, and emitting supercilious growls that in themselves would have been sufficient grounds for instant death if Pete Bernard's huskies could have acted upon their unanimous opinion.
"It's a terrible thing," sighed the Woman, "to have a murderer in our midst and not know who it is. It makes me feel positively creepy." And again, almost unconsciously, her glance fell upon Baldy.
And so the affair was ended officially. But Baldy could not forget the sickening suspicion that had rested upon him. In her heart the Woman felt that he was the culprit; and even "Scotty" had not been absolutely certain of his innocence. There was only Ben who knew.
Forlornly the boy and the dog wandered about throughout that dismal day, which seemed interminable. Nothing interested them, even the very things that had made the other days pass so quickly and so happily. Nothing except gloomily watching Tom, whose actions would have plainly proved his guilt to "Scotty" had the man not been too absorbed in an improvement for his sled to take much notice of anything else.
For a brief period the wily criminal had shown a humility as deep as it was unusual; he had sat on a pile of wood alone, not even romping with Dick and Harry till he felt the Hour of Judgment had passed. And then, deciding that there was no punishment forthcoming, he had leaped and frisked, and seemed so guileless that Baldy's contempt for his own kind made life hardly worth while.
One might look for such actions from inferior animals—from a cat that has killed a bird for instance; for cats are only soft-footed, purring bundles of deceit, with no standard of trail morals. But for a dog, a racing dog, and one belonging to the Allan and Darling Team, it was almost incredible. One would expect him at least to have the courage of his convictions, and be willing to take the consequences of what he regarded as a legitimate feud.
Tom's escape from all blame in this deplorable matter rankled. It made Baldy realize the indifference or casual injustice of a world that seldom delves below the surface of things; and while at times it plunged him into periods of depression, more often it spurred him on in his dogged determination to attain the goal of his recently aroused ambitions.
Fortunately he had a forgiving nature, and realized they could not know how deeply he had been wounded by their lack of faith. Also he was too busy to brood very much, for when they exercised at all, the new dogs were being tried out, and the older ones were in demand as "trainers." Most recruits are as eager for the honor of making the team as a freshman is to get into college football; but occasionally it was thrust upon an unwilling candidate.
"I should not be at all surprised if I have some trouble with Fisher," remarked "Scotty," as he turned the dogs out one day for their usual run. "He has a certain malamute stubbornness that might cause me a lot of annoyance just when I could least afford the time to correct him."
"Well, after your famous victory over Jack McMillan I do not anticipate seeing any real difficulty with Fisher," was the Big Man's confident reply. "I think you would be eligible to the position of wild beast tamer in a menagerie as the result of your tussle with Jack; for his strong wolf strain and his enormous strength certainly made him a formidable opponent. Yet you never tied nor whipped him."
"That had been tried constantly, with no success, and some danger. You see, with McMillan's disposition, such treatment only made him more defiant, without in the least breaking his spirit. I knew of course that he would have to be conquered, and conquered completely, or become an outlaw against whom every one would turn; but the punishment would have to be more vital and less humiliating than a beating. It won't do to embitter an animal any more than it will a person. You have to leave a certain self-respect and give him a fair chance."
And more than a fair chance Jack had received in that thrilling moment when the wiry little Scotchman, cool and determined, had faced the huge brute whose nature, harking back to the wild, threw off the shackles of generations of suppression and training, and rose to meet his hereditary enemy—opposing fierce resentment to all efforts of control.
For an instant the man and dog had paused, each seeming to gauge the strength of the other—then the instinct to kill, that heritage from the past, when the timber wolf gave no quarter, rose supreme; and the dog sprang forward, the wide open jaws revealing his sharp, white teeth and cruelly broken tusks. Suddenly the weight of Allan's body was hurled against him; strong supple fingers closed upon his neck, and with an unexpected wrench Jack McMillan's head was buried in a drift of soft, deep snow. He struggled violently to wrest himself from the iron grasp; madly he fought for freedom; but always there was that slow, deadly tightening at the throat. Panting and choking, he had made one last desperate attempt to break the grip that pinned him down; and then lay spent and inert except for an occasional hoarse gasp, or convulsive movement of his massive frame.
At length the man had risen, and the dog, feeling himself loosed, and able to get his breath, staggered uncertainly to his feet, turned, and stood bravely facing his foe. There was, for a brief period, the suggestion of a renewed conflict in the dog's attitude. With the foam dripping from his mouth, quivering in every muscle; but still erect, exhausted but not cowed, he waited for the next move—and when it came McMillan had met his master. Not because of the force in the vise-like fingers, not because of the dominating mind that controlled them, but because of the generous spirit that treats a conquered enemy—even a dog—as an honorable antagonist, not an abject slave.
There had seemed to be a sudden comprehension on the part of the dog, like the clearing of a distorting mist. He realized in the tone of the man's voice the recognition and appreciation of qualities which stand not alone for unquenchable hatred, but for undying fidelity as well; and when "Scotty's" hand fell upon his head, and gently stroked the soft sable muzzle, Jack McMillan had not only met a master, but he had made a friend.
"But Fisher is quite different from Jack. There was never anything petty about him. Even his hatred had something impressive about it, for he fought to kill, and was never snarling and underhanded. You always knew where you stood with him. While Fisher is not at all dangerous, he has many undesirable traits that are difficult to overcome. He shirked all the way up from town. That may have been the fault of his training, or possibly he is naturally lazy; that is what I want to find out. At any rate nagging does not seem to worry him in the least."
The Woman came out of the house pulling on her fur gloves. "What do you say," she asked Allan, "to a spin over to Mary's Igloo? Father Bernard has all sorts of native curios there that I should like to see, and the day is right for a drive."
"Fine idea," agreed the Big Man. "And Ben and I will follow with as many of Pete's huskies as we think we can manage without being slated for the hospital. We might try the Yellow Peril in the lead."
"In that case," the Woman responded rather grimly, "you will probably be slated for the cemetery instead. Why don't you get a couple of reindeer from the camp just below? They may not be so fast, but they are surely safe, and one feels so picturesque behind them, with all their gay felt collars and trappings."
"Scotty" whistled for the dogs, but Fisher was not to be seen. He had gone back into the stable to doze on the hay, his favorite pastime. Again and again the whistle failed to gain any response. The other dogs had all stepped into place before the sled; when at last Fisher, reluctant in coming, meditated a moment, and then, in open rebellion, darted down the steep banks into the overflow of the Springs. The water, a strange freak of nature in the Arctic, was very warm, and deep enough so that he had to swim; and he felt that he had selected an ideal place for his Declaration of Independence.
But "Scotty," shouting directions to have the other dogs unhitched, immediately started in pursuit of the rebel.
Fisher left the hard, well-beaten track, and struck out for some small willows and alders where the snow had drifted in feathery masses. He broke through the crust frequently, but knew that a man would have more difficulty still in making any headway. Finally Allan turned back to the house, and Fisher sat down to think over his little victory. He was tired and panting, but he felt he had scored a point; when to his amazement he saw the man coming toward him, and now on snow-shoes. He plunged forward, and relentlessly "Scotty" followed. Hour after hour the chase continued, until Fisher realized, at length, the futility of it all; and thoroughly exhausted, crouched shivering in the snow, waiting for the punishment that lay in the coils of the long black whip in the man's hand.
When some little distance from him, Allan paused and called to Fisher.
The dog listened. There was something compelling in the tone, something he could not resist; and so in spite of the temptation to make one more wild dash for liberty, the dog crawled to "Scotty's" feet in fear and trembling. And instead of the sting of the lash he had expected, a kindly touch fell upon him, and a friendly voice said, "It's a good thing, old fellow, you decided to come to me of your own free will.
"It means a bone instead of a beating—remember that always," and a delicious greasy bone was taken from a capacious pocket and given him.
So Fisher went back to the stable with "Scotty "; where Jack McMillan and other ex-rebels, but now loyal subjects, ignored, with a politeness born of similar experiences, the little episode that taught Fisher once for all that respect for authority eliminates the necessity for a whipping. Which is, perhaps, the canine version of Virtue being its own Reward.
The drive back to town was pleasant but uneventful. Ben, perfectly well again, was eager to begin his school work and lay a foundation for the wonderful education that Moose Jones had in mind for him, while Baldy was glad to be at home once more where he could settle down to his regular duties. It was with a contentment quite new to him, for in "Scotty" Allan there was evident a growing recognition of his earnest desire to be of real use. And with that certainty he ceased to worry over the short-sightedness of a world which, till now, had appeared to him unable to grasp the idea that while beauty is only fur deep, ability goes to the bone.
Tom, Dick and Harry might attract the notice of strangers by their persuasive ways; Jack McMillan compel admiration by his magnificence; Irish and Rover win caresses by their affectionate demonstrations. But after all, in storm and stress, with perhaps a life at stake, it was to him, to Baldy the obscure, to Baldy "formerly of Golconda, now of Nome," that his master had turned in his hour of greatest need.