mon and safety.

It was any one's race.

The telephone brought news that varied from moment to moment. John
Johnson was steady as to pace, and slightly in the lead; later Holmsen
had passed him, then Dalzene. Allan had dropped behind. The excitement
grew more intense each instant. Side by side drove Dalzene and Charlie
Johnson, with Holmsen at their heels--dogs and men on their mettle,
magnificent in endurance and spirit; but closing in upon them was "Finn
John" with his Blue Eyed Leader, and Nome well knew what they could do,
and had done twice.

Then, too, there was always "Scotty" to be feared; always his marvelous
generalship to be reckoned with; his perfect mastery of the dogs, and
their devotion to him to be considered.

"Seals on the ice ahead, Spot," had been a suggestion that had fired not
only Spot, but Tom, Dick and Harry also with a new interest that almost
banished fatigue.

Then at intervals there were broken bars, alternately whistled and sung,
of Home Sweet Home; and the dogs knew, someway, that this strange noise
always signified that their journey was nearly at an end. And once, in
readjusting his harness, "Scotty" had caressed Baldy so affectionately
that the dog forgot the struggle he had passed through, remembering the
happy fact that he had not failed in his trust.

All of this encouragement resulted in an increased activity that began
to tell in the fast decreasing distance between their team and the
others.

"On, Baldy; on, boys," and on they came out of the long reaches of utter
desolation, of dreary monotony, of lifeless calm, with a rush that soon
brought Johnson in view. "Gee"--they whirled to the right and by him
with unexpected ease; then on and on still, till they could see the
others. Baldy, spurred by that to yet stronger efforts, plunged forward
with renewed vigor until he seemed, with his team-mates, to touch the
drifted snows as lightly as a gull skims the crested waves.

When nearly abreast of those who had been setting so fast a pace, Allan,
in a low voice, tense with the excitement of the moment, called again to
the dogs. "Speed up, Baldy; speed up, boys. Don't let the Siberian
Fuzzy-Wuzzies beat you again. Show them what your long legs are good
for--Alaskans to the front," and Baldy, with an almost incredible burst
of speed, shot past them, and was at last in the lead in that mad,
headlong drive for Nome.

There was no hint of the laggard now in Tom, Dick and Harry--no