Then the whistle sounded low, but clear. Spot leaped forward,
and Queen and Baldy were no laggards in his wake.
Once more they were abreast of the "houn' dogs," and once more the tried
and untried of the same Kennel raced side by side, with even chances of
victory.
Then again came the Luck of the Trail; and Fate that had sent dead birds
as a temptation now sent a live cat as an inspiration. It was black and
sleek and swift, and fairly flew from a clump of willows by the wayside,
up the trail toward a cabin on the edge of town; and after it flew Spot,
all eagerness for the chase.
Dan's team, as indifferent to the fascination of swift, sleek cats as
only dogs of "Scotty's" training could be, were pursuing the even tenor
of their way in no wise excited by the episode.
When the cat darted out of sight to safety George's dogs were almost at
the starting point and the crowds had hurried to meet them; keeping free
only a narrow passage down which they dashed with unabated speed. For
while they were tired, and home and rest were near, the cheers and
applause of the people egged them on till they crossed the line, where
George was greeted as Winner of the First Annual, Juvenile Race of Nome.
He had covered the course of seven miles in thirty minutes and six
seconds, while two minutes behind came Dan, just in time to offer loyal
homage on the altar of friendship and success. There was a warm clasp of
the hand, and a sincere if brief tribute.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68