Fort Davis! The thunderous boom of the guns heralded the approach of
the first team. Nome, up the coast, was in a furor. Once more the people
gathered quickly in the streets, and hurried toward the gaily
illuminated stands to witness the finish of the great event.
Though it was ten o'clock at night, the full moon and the radiance of
the snow made everything shimmer and glitter with wonderful brilliancy.
High above the lights of the little town, which seemed but a
continuation of the stars, flamed the Way-Farer's Cross on the spire of
St. Joseph's; huge bonfires cast a flickering crimson glow upon the
frosted pinnacles of ice, and rockets rose and fell like sparkling
jewels in the clear sky.
Overhead fluttered a silken purse and the Trophy Cup, suspended by the
Kennel Club colors from a wire that marked the end of the longest and
most picturesque course in the racing world.
The wild wailing of many wolf dogs, shrill whistles, the merry peal of
bells, added to the deafening clamor--as far away over the frozen sea a
dim black shadow came--a swiftly moving shadow that soon was engulfed in
the swaying mob that surged to meet it.
The Woman leaned from out the Judges' Stand, waving streamers of White
and Gold in joyous welcome.
Ben Edwards, thrilling with pride and happiness, slipped through the
jostling crowd, and saw coming to him, down the Silver Trail, an ugly,
rough-coated, faithful dog--bringing in his triumph, a justification of
the boy's unshaken faith, a reward for his unfaltering affection.
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