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Darling, Esther Birdsall

"Baldy of Nome"

And I think
he's just right, too; Jack is a perfect dear," and the receiver was hung
up with a click that admitted of no further argument.
At last they were off again, five hours behind the others; but when they
did leave, the North knew that the sport was on in earnest--for Allan's
policy had ever been to do his real driving on the "home stretch."
Soon the languor from the rest, and the heaviness from the food were
forgotten; and there existed but one dominating, resistless impulse in
dog and man--the impulse to win.
Even the least responsive dog must then have felt the thrill of the
famous race, for never a whip--hardly a word--was necessary to spur them
on.
Frequently the trails were sodden, and often obliterated; soft snow
piling up like drifts of feathers into fleecy barriers through which the
dogs, with the aid and encouragement of their Master, fought their way,
inch by inch. Beyond them lay Death Valley, a dread waste where the dead
silence is broken only by the wailing and shrieking of the wind as it
sweeps down in sudden fury from the sentinel peaks that guard it. Across
this Baldy led unswervingly, never hesitating, and hardly relaxing his
steady pace, though the sudden gusts from the mountainside often curved
the team into a half circle; and he was forced to keep his nose well
into the air and brace himself firmly to keep from being carried off his
feet.
Further on came the Glacier Grade, on either side of which rose
overhanging cliffs.


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