The Woman stroked Jack's sable muzzle gently. She thought of the old
days when his name was once a symbol of all that was fierce and
wolf-like and wicked in the annals of Nome; and then of his unbroken
spirit and steadfast allegiance to her. "McMillan of the Broken Tusks,"
she said softly, "has no price."
Then, eagerly, "Baldy?"
"I cannot give Baldy up," was the firm reply. "He has led the team in
three great victories; and he did not desert me when I lay freezing and
helpless, alone in the snow." "Scotty's" hand rested lovingly on the
ugly dark head pressed so tightly, so trustfully against him. "He's a
wonderful leader and my faithful friend."
"I understand," the Captain said, and turned away. "The list is now
complete."
And in the dusk of the Kennel, as once on the Golconda Trail, the boy's
wet cheek was laid tenderly against the dog's rough coat; but the tears
that fell now were tears of joy. "Oh, Baldy," he whispered happily,
"some day you'll be with me Outside. We'll do things there some day."
[Illustration: BALDY OF NOME]
Then came the day, filled with excitement and thrills, when on a
tow-line three hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred and six famous
dogs passed through the streets of the far-away Arctic town, on their
way to the battle-fields of France.
At their head was Spot, with George Allan trudging proudly by his side.
"I'll lend you Spot to get them down to the dock," was his offer to
Captain Haas.
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