"
"You can't allers tell about that," observed Dan pessimistically. "I got
a dog that's a corker when he's just chasin' things; but when I put a
harness on him he ain't fit for a High School Girl's Racin' Team, an'
you know what girls is for gettin' speed out of a dog. 'You poor tired
little doggie, you can stop right here an' rest if you want to; I don't
care if they do get ahead of us,'" and Danny finished his remarks in the
high falsetto and mincing inflection he attributed to the youthful
members of a sex that in his opinion, as well as in George's, has no
right to engage in the masculine occupation of Dog Mushing.
"Of course," said George, looking thoughtfully at Baldy, who was lying
contentedly at Ben's feet, and giving voice to the wisdom of "Scotty" or
Matt in such discussions, "of course, in a dog that's goin' in for the
Big Race, you got t' have more'n speed. You can't depend on just that
for four hundred and eight miles. There's got t' be lots of endurance
an' the dogs had ought t' really enjoy racin' t' do their best. But for
this race we're goin' in, Danny, I guess speed's the whole thing.
Speed, an' the dog's mindin' you." George glanced involuntarily toward
Jack McMillan, who sat with his head resting against the Woman's knee.
"You can't do anythin' at all, no matter how fast dogs is, if they don't
mind."
"I'm afraid, Mr. McMillan," commented the Woman seriously, "that these
personalities are meant for you. Just because your first owner spoiled
you, and the second paid the highest price ever given for a dog in the
North, all accuse you of thinking yourself far too important to be
classed with the common herd whose chief virtue is obedience.
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