Baldy of Nome Part 5

"'Rithmetic," suggested Danny promptly.

"Well, anyway, we got t' run our own race. Dad says there ain't any cut an' dried rules for dog racin' beyond knowin' your dogs, an' usin'

common sense. Each time it's different, 'cordin' t' the dogs, the distance, the trail an' the weather. An' you have t' know just what it's best t' do whatever happens, even if it never happened before."

"Gee," sighed Danny heavily, "winnin' automobile races an' horse races is takin' candy from babies besides this here dog racin'. I hadn't any idea how much there was to it till we begun t' train the dogs, an' talk it over with your father. I was awful nervous last night, I don't believe I slept hardly any, worryin' about the things that can go wrong, no matter how careful you are."

"I didn't sleep any, either. I got t' thinkin' about Queen hatin'

Eskimos, an' chasin' 'em every time she gets a chance. It 'ud be a terrible thing if she saw one out on the tundra, an' left the trail t'

try and ketch him; or if she smelled some of 'em in the crowd an' made a break for 'em just when she ought t' be ready t' start. An' you know there's bound t' be loads of Eskimos, 'cause they'd rather see a dog race than eat a seal-blubber banquet."

"That's so; but Spot is good friends with all the natives 'round town, an' he's stronger'n Queen, an' wouldn't leave the trail for anything but s...o...b..rds or rabbits, so he'd hold 'er down. An' I guess Baldy'd be kinda neutral, 'cause he don't pay attention t' Eskimos or anything when he's workin'. I never saw a dog mind his own business like Baldy. That's worth somethin' in a race." The inactivity was becoming unbearable.

"George, if you and Ben'll get the dogs into harness, I'll go an' see what's doin' with some of the others. It'll sort o' fill in time."

Ben and George hitched the dogs to the respective sleds after Spot, in the exuberant joy of a prospective run, had dashed madly about, barking boisterously, a thing absolutely prohibited in that well-ordered household. "Scotty" and Matt refrained from all criticism of George's leader, knowing that both the boy and dog were unduly excited by the noisy, laughing groups surrounding them. Queen, while she waited with very scant patience for the strange situation, diverted herself by nipping viciously at any one who went past, and Baldy stood quiet and different save when Ben Edwards was near, or "Scotty" spoke kindly to him.

Mego's sons, as was natural with such a parent, and with Allan's training since they were born, behaved with perfect propriety; and there were many compliments for Dan's team, which manifested a polite interest in the development of affairs.

Shortly Dan returned with somewhat encouraging information about the rival teams.

"Bob's got three dogs better matched 'n yours as t' size," he remarked judicially, "but his leader, old Nero, 's most twelve, you remember, 'nd wants t' stop an' wag his tail, an' give his paw t' every kid that speaks to him. Bill's got some bully pups, but his sled's no good; it's his mother's kitchen chair nailed onto his skiis. Jimmie's team's a peach, an' so's his sled; but Jim drives like a--like a girl," finished Mr. Kelly scornfully, with the tone of one who disposes of that contestant effectively and finally. "For looks an' style, I can tell you, George, there ain't any of 'em that's a patch on my team. Some Pupmobile!"

He glanced proudly at the wide-awake dogs who showed their breeding and education at every turn, and then toward George's ill-a.s.sorted collection: Spot, rangy, raw-boned, and awkward, Queen fretful and mutinous, and Baldy so stolid that it was evident he was receiving no inspiration from the enthusiasm about him.

"Of course you can beat me drivin' without half tryin', George, an' if Spot's feet wasn't so big, an' Queen didn't have such a rotten disposition, an' Baldy knew he was alive, it 'ud be a regular cinch for you. But the way things is, believe me, I'm goin' t' give you a run for your money, with good old Mego's 'houn' dogs.'"

Both George and Dan had, of course, like all small boys in Nome, at one time or another, made swift and hazardous dashes of a few hundred yards, in huge chopping bowls purloined from their mothers' pantries; and drawn by any one dog that was available for the instant, and would tamely submit to the degradation. An infantile amus.e.m.e.nt, they felt now, in the face of this real Sporting Event that was engaging the attention of the entire town. And to complete the feeling that this was indeed no mere child's play, the Woman came to them with two cups of hot tea to warm them up, and steady their nerves on the trail. This they graciously accepted and drank, in spite of its very unpleasant taste; for "Scotty"

always drank tea while giving Matt the last few necessary directions before a race.

"All ready, boys, time to leave," called the Big Man cheerily. "Peril and I will go ahead, and charge the mult.i.tudes so that you can get through."

The Allan girls pressed forward hurriedly to give George two treasured emblems of Good Luck--a four-leaf clover in a crumpled bit of silver paper, and a tiny Billiken in ivory, the cherished work of Happy Jack, the Eskimo Carver.

Equally potent charms in the form of a rabbit's foot, and a rusty horseshoe were tendered Danny by his staunch supporters.

At the big door of the Kennel the boys stopped for a final word. "We won't make a sound if we should have to pa.s.s on the trail," said George.

"We'll be as silent as the dead," an expression recently acquired, and one which seemed in keeping with these solemn moments. "All the dogs know our voices, an' if we should speak they might stop just like they have when we've been exercisin' 'em, an' wanted t' talk things over.

We'll pull the hoods of our parkas over our heads, an' turn our faces away so's not to attract 'em. Dan, I do want t' win this race awful bad, 'cause o' my father mostly, but you bet I hope you'll come in a close second."

"Same to you, George," and they made their way to the middle of the street, where they fell in behind the Big Man and the Peril, and were flanked by the Woman and "Scotty," Matt and Ben, with most of the others who had waited for this imposing departure.

The other entries had already arrived at the starting point, where there was much confusion and zeal in keeping the bewildered dogs in order. It was a new game, and they did not quite comprehend what was expected of them.

At last, however, the Timekeeper, and Starter, a.s.sisted by various members of the Kennel Club, had cleared a s.p.a.ce into which the first entry was led with great ceremony. It was Bob, with the cordial, if ancient, Nero in the lead.

They were to leave three minutes apart; the time of each team being computed from the moment of its departure till its return, as is always done in the Great Races.

The Timekeeper stood with his watch in his hand, and the Starter beside him. Bob, eager for the word, spoke soothingly to the dogs to keep them quiet. He was devoutly hoping that Nero would not discover any intimate friend in the crowd and insist upon a formal greeting; for Nero's affability was a distinct disadvantage on such an occasion.

At last the moment came, and the Starter's "Go" was almost simultaneous with Bob's orders to his leader, whose usual dignified and leisurely movements were considerably hastened by the thunderous applause of the spectators.

It was a "bully get-away," George and Dan agreed, and only hoped that theirs would be as satisfactory.

Bill followed with equal ease, and equal approbation.

Jim, justifying Dan's earlier unfavorable report, lost over a minute by letting his dogs become tangled up in their harness, and then coaxing them to leave instead of commanding.

"Wouldn't that jar you?" whispered Dan disgustedly. "Why, your sister Helen does better'n that in those girly-girly races, even if she does say she'd rather get a beatin' herself than give one to a dog."

But the general public looked with more lenient eyes upon such mistakes, and Jim left amidst the same enthusiasm that had sped the others on their way.

When Dan and his dogs lined up there was much admiration openly expressed.

"Looks like a Sweepstakes team through the wrong end of the opry gla.s.ses, don't it?" exclaimed Matt with justifiable pride to Black Mart Barclay, who happened to be next him.

Mart scrutinized the entry closely. "Not so bad. Them Mego pups is allers fair lookers an' fair go-ers, so fur's I ever heered t' the contrary," he admitted grudgingly.

There was an air of repressed but pleasurable expectation about the little "houn' dogs," as they patiently waited for their signal to go.

Their racing manners were absolutely above reproach. Unlike Nero, they quite properly ignored the merely social side of the event, and were evidently intent upon the serious struggle before them; and equally unlike Queen and Baldy, they showed neither the peevishness of the one, nor the apathy of the other.

By most people the race was practically conceded to Dan before the start.

It seemed an endless time to George before it was his turn; but when he finally stepped into place, the nervousness that had made the wait almost unbearable disappeared completely. The hood of his fur parka had dropped back, and his yellow hair, closely cropped that it should not curl and "make a sissy" of him, gleamed golden in the sunlight above a face that, usually rosy and smiling, was now pale and determined.

In that far world "outside," George Allan would have been at an age when ringlets and a nurse-maid are just beginning to chafe a proud man's spirit; but here in the North he was already "Some Musher,"[1] and was eager to win the honors that would prove him a worthy son of the Greatest Dog Man in Alaska.

[Footnote 1: "Musher"--driver, trailsman.]

True to their several characteristics, Spot manifested an amiable and wide-awake interest in all about him, Queen repelled all advances with snaps and snarls, and Baldy quivered with a dread of the unknown, and was only rea.s.sured when he felt Ben Edwards' hand on his collar, and listened to the low, encouraging tones of the boy's voice.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE START OF AN ALASKAN DOG TEAM RACE]

"Too bad, Matt," drawled Black Mart, "that the little Allan kid's usin'

Baldy. He was allers an ornery beast, an' combin' his hair an' puttin'

ta.s.sels an' fancy harness on him ain't goin' t' make a racer outen a cur."

Ben's face flushed hotly. "It ain't just beauty that counts, Baldy; it's what you got clear down in your heart that folks can't see," he thought, and clung the more lovingly to the trembling dog.

Matt carefully shook the ashes from his pipe. "It's a mighty good thing, Mart, that people an' dogs ain't judged entirely by looks. If they was, there's some dogs that's racin' that would be in the pound, an' some men that's criticizin' that would be in jail."

"Ready."

George, poised lightly on the runners at the back of the trim sled, firmly grasped the curved top, and repeated the word to Spot, who held himself motionless but in perfect readiness for the final signal.

"Go."

With unexpected buoyancy and ease, Spot darted ahead, and for once Queen forgot her grievances, and Baldy his fears; as in absolute harmony of action, the incongruous team sped quickly down the length of the street, and over the edge of the Dry Creek hill; to reappear shortly on the trail that led straight out to the Bessie Bench.

The Road House there was the turning point, where the teams would pa.s.s round a pole at which was stationed a guard; and the collection of buildings which marked the end of half of the course looked distant indeed to the five young mushers who with their teams had now become, to the watchers in Nome, merely small moving black specks against the whiteness of the snow.