"[1] and was
eager to win the honors that would prove him a worthy son of the
Greatest Dog Man in Alaska.

[Footnote 1: "Musher"--driver, trailsman.]

True to their several characteristics, Spot manifested an amiable and
wide-awake interest in all about him, Queen repelled all advances with
snaps and snarls, and Baldy quivered with a dread of the unknown, and
was only reassured when he felt Ben Edwards' hand on his collar, and
listened to the low, encouraging tones of the boy's voice.

[Illustration: THE START OF AN ALASKAN DOG TEAM RACE]

"Too bad, Matt," drawled Black Mart, "that the little Allan kid's usin'
Baldy. He was allers an ornery beast, an' combin' his hair an' puttin'
tassels an' fancy harness on him ain't goin' t' make a racer outen a
cur."

Ben's face flushed hotly. "It ain't just beauty that counts, Baldy; it's
what you got clear down in your heart that folks can't see," he thought,
and clung the more lovingly to the trembling dog.

Matt carefully shook the ashes from his pipe. "It's a mighty good thing,
Mart, that people an' dogs ain't judged entirely by looks. If they was,
there's some dogs that's racin' that would be in the pound, an' some men
that's criticizin' that would be in jail."

"Ready."

George, poised lightly on the runners at the back of the trim sled,
firmly grasped the curved top, and repeated the word to Spot, who held
himself motionless but in perfect readiness for the final signal.

"Go."

With unexpected buoyancy and ease, Spot darted ahead, and for once
Queen forgot her grievances, and Baldy his fears; as in absolute harmony
of action, the incongruous team sped quickly down the length of the
street, and over the edge of the Dry Creek hill; to reappear shortly on
the trail that led straight out to the Bessie Bench.

The Road House there was the turning point, where the teams would pass
round a pole at which was stationed a guard; and the collection of
buildings which marked the end of half of the course looked distant
indeed to the five young mushers who with their teams had now become, to
the watchers in Nome, merely small moving black specks against the
whiteness of the snow.

George and Dan had discussed the matter fully in the preceding days, and
had decided that, like "Scotty," they would do all of the real driving
on the way home. So it was not at all disconcerting, some time before
they reached the turn, to meet two of the teams coming back. The third,
Jim's, had