And "Scotty," too, was obliged to remove the ice from his
lashes before he could be sure of his bearings.
"Now then," as they had divested themselves of their glistening coats,
"the worst is over, and off we go."
At times the hard smooth trail wound like a silver ribbon under the pale
glow of the Aurora. Then, with flying feet, they sped along the edge of
deep gorges, up steep slopes, and over the glare ice of rivers and
lakes.
But the distance between them and the other teams was now gradually
lessening, and at Timber Road House they had made up half of the time
lost in Candle. Here they had the next "big sleep," lying on clean straw
on the floor beside Allan, whose closeness calmed their nerves. It was a
great comfort to be able to place a paw on him, or sociably lick his
hand--for they felt that all was well if they were but within reach of
their master's touch.
They awoke full of renewed energy. "Scotty" was harnessing them for the
last long run, with the help of his brother Bill, and Paul Kegsted, who
had charge of that relay station for the Kennel Club.
"Boys," he gasped in amazement, "Baldy's gone lame. He's so stiff he can
scarcely move. I can't understand it, for he was all right when I turned
in." At the slightest touch the dog winced, and Allan was appalled at
the situation.
He had trained nearly all of the dogs so that they could lead under most
circumstances; but this final struggle would require far more than
ordinary ability.
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