At last they stood, every detail of equipment perfect, while "Scotty"
glanced once more over his small kit in the sled; green veils for the
dog's eyes should the glare of the sun prove too troublesome, little
blankets, canton flannel moccasins for their feet in case of sharp ice,
and extra bits of harness--all stowed safely away, including his own fur
parka and water-tight boots.
Matt regarded the team critically, and while filled with a sober
satisfaction, was much relieved to hear that it had the unqualified
approval of the experts, George and Dan. "Of course Spot 'ud make a
classier leader, Dan, but I'm the only one that can really handle him
yet, so I guess Baldy's best for Dad."
The Woman waited to give each dog a parting caress and a word of
encouragement. "Tom, Dick and Harry, remember you're the Veterans, and
have an honorable record to maintain; Irish and Rover, never forget that
you _are_ Irish, and live up to all that it means; McMillan, it's your
chance to wipe out the past; and Baldy--well, Baldy, 'Scotty,' we all,
trust you." And then she turned and pinned the last knot of white and
gold on Allan's breast, and her voice trembled as she said, "Success to
our colors."
Through the narrow streets, gay with the fluttering streamers of the
Kennel Club gold and green, they went. Banners and pennants shone
resplendent under the cloudless blue of the April sky; and the crowds in
high spirits and gala attire, eager and laughing, closed in upon them
till Baldy longed to howl in sheer fright, though howling in harness is
strictly forbidden by "Scotty," and would have been quite out of keeping
with the august dignity of his position.
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