itations and was pressing desperately against
them, he ran gamely on.

CHAPTER VI

A crowd filled the Tivoli--the old crowd that had seen Daylight depart
two months before; for this was the night of the sixtieth day, and
opinion was divided as ever as to whether or not he would compass the
achievement. At ten o'clock bets were still being made, though the
odds rose, bet by bet, against his success. Down in her heart the
Virgin believed he had failed, yet she made a bet of twenty ounces with
Charley Bates, against forty ounces, that Daylight would arrive before
midnight.

She it was who heard the first yelps of the dogs.

"Listen!" she cried. "It's Daylight!"

There was a general stampede for the door; but where the double
storm-doors were thrown wide open, the crowd fell back. They heard the
eager whining of dogs, the snap of a dog-whip, and the voice of
Daylight crying encouragement as the weary animals capped all they had
done by dragging the sled in over the wooden floor. They came in with
a rush, and with them rushed in the frost, a visible vapor of smoking
white, through which their heads and backs showed, as they strained in
the harness, till they had all the seeming of swimming in a river.
Behind them, at the gee-pole, came Daylight, hidden to the knees by the
swirling frost through which he appeared to wade.

He was the same old Daylight, withal lean and tired-looking, and his
black eyes were sparkling and flashing brighter than ever. His parka of
cotton drill hooded him like a monk, and fell in straight lines to his
knees. Grimed and scorched by camp-smoke and fire, the garment in
itself told the story of his trip. A two-months' beard covered his
face; and the beard, in turn, was matted with the ice of his breathing
through the long seventy-mile run.

His entry was spectacular, melodramatic; and he knew it. It was his
life, and he was living it at the top of his bent. Among his fellows
he was a great man, an Arctic hero. He was proud of the fact, and it
was a high moment for him, fresh from two thousand miles of trail, to
come surging into that bar-room, dogs, sled, mail, Indian,
paraphernalia, and all. He had performed one more exploit that would
make the Yukon ring with his name--he, Burning Daylight, the king of
travelers and dog-mushers.

He experienced a thrill of surprise as the roar of welcome went up and
as every familiar detail of the Tivoli greeted his vision--the long bar
an