as in George's, has no
right to engage in the masculine occupation of Dog Mushing.

"Of course," said George, looking thoughtfully at Baldy, who was lying
contentedly at Ben's feet, and giving voice to the wisdom of "Scotty" or
Matt in such discussions, "of course, in a dog that's goin' in for the
Big Race, you got t' have more'n speed. You can't depend on just that
for four hundred and eight miles. There's got t' be lots of endurance
an' the dogs had ought t' really enjoy racin' t' do their best. But for
this race we're goin' in, Danny, I guess speed's the whole thing.
Speed, an' the dog's mindin' you." George glanced involuntarily toward
Jack McMillan, who sat with his head resting against the Woman's knee.
"You can't do anythin' at all, no matter how fast dogs is, if they don't
mind."

"I'm afraid, Mr. McMillan," commented the Woman seriously, "that these
personalities are meant for you. Just because your first owner spoiled
you, and the second paid the highest price ever given for a dog in the
North, all accuse you of thinking yourself far too important to be
classed with the common herd whose chief virtue is obedience. They say
you lost a great race by being ungovernable. Guilty, or not guilty?" The
brown eyes that had been wont to blaze so fiercely now looked pleadingly
into the Woman's face, and the sable muzzle was pressed more closely
against her. "They started you off all wrong, Jack. They let you become
headstrong, and then tried to force you arbitrarily into their ways,
instead of persuading you. If you had been a human being, all this would
have been considered Temperament, but being only a dog it was Temper,
and was dealt with as such." McMillan gravely extended his paw in
appreciation of her championship.

"Oh, I didn't only just mean Jack when I was talkin' about dogs not
mindin'," explained George with embarrassed haste; for he knew of the
Woman's fondness for the dog and did not wish to hurt her feelings, much
as he condemned her judgment in selecting such a favorite.

Her preference had dated from the night when she had entered the Kennel
after a long absence, and had seen the stranger in the half light of the
June midnight. He had changed somewhat since the imperious days when he
had threatened the life of his trainer, and she had not recognized the
Incorrigible in the handsome dog who had greeted her with such
flattering cordiality.

He soon manifested an abject devotion to her, and would barel