Then, too, there was always "Scotty" to be feared; always his marvelous generalship to be reckoned with; his perfect mastery of the dogs, and their devotion to him to be considered.

"Seals on the ice ahead, Spot," had been a suggestion that had fired not only Spot, but Tom, Dick and Harry also with a new interest that almost banished fatigue.

Then at intervals there were broken bars, alternately whistled and sung, of Home Sweet Home; and the dogs knew, someway, that this strange noise always signified that their journey was nearly at an end. And once, in readjusting his harness, "Scotty" had caressed Baldy so affectionately that the dog forgot the struggle he had passed through, remembering the happy fact that he had not failed in his trust.

All of this encouragement resulted in an increased activity that began to tell in the fast decreasing distance between their team and the others.

"On, Baldy; on, boys," and on they came out of the long reaches of utter desolation, of dreary monotony, of lifeless calm, with a rush that soon brought Johnson in view. "Gee"—they whirled to the right and by him with unexpected ease; then on and on still, till they could see the others. Baldy, spurred by that to yet stronger efforts, plunged forward with renewed vigor until he seemed, with his team-mates, to touch the drifted snows as lightly as a gull skims the crested waves.

When nearly abreast of those who had been setting so fast a pace, Allan, in a low voice, tense with the excitement of the moment, called again to the dogs. "Speed up, Baldy; speed up, boys. Don't let the Siberian Fuzzy-Wuzzies beat you again. Show them what your long legs are good for—Alaskans to the front," and Baldy, with an almost incredible burst of speed, shot past them, and was at last in the lead in that mad, headlong drive for Nome.

There was no hint of the laggard now in Tom, Dick and Harry—no suspicion of "staleness" in their keen pride in their work; Irish and Rover, ever fleet and responsive, needed no urging; Jack McMillan gave his stupendous energy, his superb intelligence with loyal abandon; and Baldy, as well as "Scotty," felt that each dog in the entire team had proved the wisdom of his choice by a willing service now to the driver he loved.

Fort Davis! The thunderous boom of the guns heralded the approach of the first team. Nome, up the coast, was in a furor. Once more the people gathered quickly in the streets, and hurried toward the gaily illuminated stands to witness the finish of the great event.

Though it was ten o'clock at night, the full moon and the radiance of the snow made everything shimmer and glitter with wonderful brilliancy. High above the lights of the little town, which seemed but a continuation of the stars, flamed the Way-Farer's Cross on the spire of St. Joseph's; huge bonfires cast a flickering crimson glow upon the frosted pinnacles of ice, and rockets rose and fell like sparkling jewels in the clear sky.

Overhead fluttered a silken purse and the Trophy Cup, suspended by the Kennel Club colors from a wire that marked the end of the longest and most picturesque course in the racing world.

The wild wailing of many wolf dogs, shrill whistles, the merry peal of bells, added to the deafening clamor—as far away over the frozen sea a dim black shadow came—a swiftly moving shadow that soon was engulfed in the swaying mob that surged to meet it.

The Woman leaned from out the Judges' Stand, waving streamers of White and Gold in joyous welcome.

Ben Edwards, thrilling with pride and happiness, slipped through the jostling crowd, and saw coming to him, down the Silver Trail, an ugly, rough-coated, faithful dog—bringing in his triumph, a justification of the boy's unshaken faith, a reward for his unfaltering affection.

Again and again there were the stirring notes of the bugle, shouts of good will and praise, wild, incessant cheers, as the Allan and Darling Team, with every dog in harness, and "Scotty" Allan at the handle-bars, swept over the line—winners of the most hotly contested race the North has ever known, and led to victory by Baldy of Nome.



XIV

Immortals of the Trail



CHAPTER XIV

IMMORTALS OF THE TRAIL

The brief summer was over. The flowers that had blossomed so freely and so brightly under fair skies and in ceaseless sunshine were gone; and in the air was the chill of the early Arctic winter.

The Woman shivered slightly in spite of her furs. There was excitement in the air.

Beside her, erect and soldierly, walked Captain Rene' Haas of the French Army, with a firm elastic tread that spoke of many marches.

He was talking earnestly with an enthusiasm that lighted up his keen dark eyes as with an inner fire.

"You see, there were many places last winter on the battle-front where horses, mules or motors could not be used; for the snow was too soft and deep, and the crust too thin. Many places where they needed just such a method of transportation as we of the North know so well,—dogs. I tried," modestly, "to show them a little of all that could be done, with a few that I trained casually. But I spoke much of the marvelous dogs of Alaska that I have learned to know and love so well in the past few years; of their intelligence, their endurance, and their almost incredible speed in the big races. My Government listened; and so I was sent to take back with me the pick of the whole North, though there will be many more from parts of Canada and Labrador."

"But not like ours of Nome," proudly replied the Woman.

"No, not like yours of Nome. That is why I am here. A hundred or more trained by Allan and other racing men will be worth a thousand ordinary recruits. Since he received my cable message telling my plans, 'Scotty' has assembled a splendid lot of team dogs for me, with a full equipment of sleds and harness; and even the dog salmon for the 'Commissary Department.'

"There is indeed but little left for me to do, as the outfit will be perfect now, with a few more experienced leaders."

"And you think," questioned the Woman with lips that quivered and eyes that were dim, "that they will be treated well, that—" Her voice was unsteady and she hesitated.

The young Captain seemed to divine all the unspoken fears.

"There is very little danger in the work," he assured her readily. "They will probably be used entirely in courier and carrier service in the passes of the French Alps.

"I belong to an Alpine Corps myself, and they will be under my direct supervision, so far as possible. Really," with honest conviction, "they will be far better off than if you sold them to freighters or prospectors for a life of toil, possibly of neglect even. All soldiers, irrespective of nationality, are good to the animals in their charge."

"I suppose it's true," sighed the Woman, "that we cannot go on accumulating dogs indefinitely; that some of them must be sold from time to time. And I, too, would rather see them go like this than to feel they might suffer worse hardships and abuses on the Trail."

"Scotty" met them at the door of the Kennel. "Come in, and we'll all go over the place together. It will not take long now to make up the rest of the required number," and he skimmed quickly over the paper in his hand.

Matt, hovering near, doing unnecessary things for the dogs, was plainly much disturbed. George and Dan, full of a war atmosphere produced by the French officer, and a kennel and corral guarded night and day, conversed eagerly of the important affairs that were happening about them; while Ben, listening apparently to their serious discussions of the European situation, as likely to be affected by this purchase, was in reality beset with a dread that drove all else from his mind.

"It's going to be a hard choice," the Woman mused as she glanced down the long line of stalls on either side, and one end, of the roomy stable.

"Scotty" paused before the Mego dogs that had fought so valiantly for first honors in the Juvenile Race.



"Excellent," observed Captain Haas, as he looked them over carefully. "Strong, intelligent, fleet," and "Scotty" wrote the names of Judge, Jimmie and Pete.

"I knew I was a pretty good judge o' dogs," announced Dan with pleased conviction; "but there's some class t' bein' a judge backed up by the French Government," and he regarded his former team with mingled feelings of regret and satisfaction.

On they went, adding name after name to the fast growing list.

"Not Tom, Dick and Harry," the Woman exclaimed as they came to the Tolmans. "These Veterans have served us too long and too loyally." And "Scotty" nodded silently.

"Irish and Rover?"

But before the question could be answered, the gentle Irish Setters gazed into her eyes beseechingly, and nosed her sleeve, confident of a caress.

"Impossible," she murmured hastily; "they are our dear comrades. And Spot," with an emphatic shake of the head, "belongs to George."

Finally they paused at the last two stalls and looked from Jack McMillan to Baldy. McMillan tugged violently at his chain, striving to reach the Woman; while Baldy, as though he understood it all, crept close to "Scotty's" side.

Captain Haas knew both of the dogs well. He had seen Jack turned from a career of rebellion and unrest to one of willing patient service; and Baldy, plodding, obscure, hard working Baldy, become the boast of the whole North.

"Here are the two," admiringly, "that please me most of all. McMillan's strength is superb—Baldy's endurance unparalleled. What War Dogs they would make! One I must have; it matters little which. The price—" he gave an eloquent gesture of complete indifference.

The Woman stroked Jack's sable muzzle gently. She thought of the old days when his name was once a symbol of all that was fierce and wolf-like and wicked in the annals of Nome; and then of his unbroken spirit and steadfast allegiance to her. "McMillan of the Broken Tusks," she said softly, "has no price."

Then, eagerly, "Baldy?"

"I cannot give Baldy up," was the firm reply. "He has led the team in three great victories; and he did not desert me when I lay freezing and helpless, alone in the snow." "Scotty's" hand rested lovingly on the ugly dark head pressed so tightly, so trustfully against him. "He's a wonderful leader and my faithful friend."

"I understand," the Captain said, and turned away. "The list is now complete."

And in the dusk of the Kennel, as once on the Golconda Trail, the boy's wet cheek was laid tenderly against the dog's rough coat; but the tears that fell now were tears of joy. "Oh, Baldy," he whispered happily, "some day you'll be with me Outside. We'll do things there some day."



Then came the day, filled with excitement and thrills, when on a tow-line three hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred and six famous dogs passed through the streets of the far-away Arctic town, on their way to the battle-fields of France.

At their head was Spot, with George Allan trudging proudly by his side.

"I'll lend you Spot to get them down to the dock," was his offer to Captain Haas. "You know he is fine in a crowd," and the officer smilingly accepted the services of Spot.

And crowds there were, too, to go through; for as on the Sweepstakes Days all of Nome had gathered to bid a final God Speed to the greatest dogs of Alaska—a Foreign Legion indeed—bound for the front.

With no confusion, under the direction of Captain Haas and "Scotty" Allan, who was to go with them as far as Quebec, they had been placed on board the "Senator" lying out in the roadstead.

A silent little group stood on the dreary beach watching the twinkling lights of the distant ship as she sailed, phantom-like, out into the misty grayness of Bering Sea.

Only the dull pounding of the surf and the weird cry of the wolf dogs broke the stillness.

At last the Woman turned from the Big Man at her side toward the boy and Moose Jones.

"Some time, perhaps," she said half sadly, yet with pride, "the Captain may have great tales for us of the War Dogs of the North. But never, never, Ben, will there be greater tales than we can tell of the Old Guard, Baldy of Nome and the others—our Immortals of the Trail."

THE END