Here the bitter wind of Death Valley became a
veritable hurricane. Time and again the dogs tried to climb the icy
slopes and time and again they were hurled back by the fearful buffeting
of the elements.
"Scotty" finally halted them, and with the greatest difficulty succeeded
in fastening spiked "creepers" to his mukluks. Then he tied Baldy to the
back of his belt by a strong leash. "Baldy, it's up to us now to get
this team through safely--and quickly--" and bowing his head to the
storm he toiled step by step, slipping and sliding, up the perilous
heights, ten miles to the summit of the range, with the dogs following
and aiding where they could.
Then came the descent, fraught with more danger still; for the gale bore
down upon them so relentlessly that all resistance was useless, and the
dogs lay flat and were swept along with the sled; while "Scotty" stood
clinging to the brake, and dragging one spiked foot behind in the
desperate attempt to act as a human anchor.
And at the bottom, quite without warning, they found themselves
breaking through the snow into an overflow of a stream, where the water
had just come through cracks in the ice to the surface. As they landed
on it with great force it sprayed over them like a fountain; and almost
instantly was frozen by the chill of the air.
Allan unhooked them. "Now, boys, roll and get rid of that ice you've
been making. You're racing dogs, not ice plants." They pawed the ice
from their eyes, and thawed it out from between their toes with their
warm tongues.
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