"O' course I wanted t' git Baldy ready fer his first race; an' doin' little things fer the other dogs is about the only way I kin pay everybody round here fer all they're doin' fer him."
Baldy was fast learning not to despise the detail that had made the new life so irksome before he realized how necessary it is in a large Kennel; and he now stood patiently waiting for his harness, while long discussions took place as to the adjustment of every strap, and the position of every buckle.
"Scotty" and Matt had come in to be ready with counsel and service, if necessary; then the Allan girls and many of the children from the neighborhood arrived, and later the Woman appeared with the Big Man whom Baldy some way associated invariably with her, and a yellow malamute whom Baldy invariably associated with him.
The Big Man always spoke pleasantly to the dogs, and had won Baldy's approval by not interfering—as did the Woman—in Kennel affairs; and the malamute—the Yellow Peril, as the Woman had named him—was plainly antagonistic to the Racers, at whom he growled with much enthusiasm. And so Baldy was glad to see the Big Man and the Peril amongst the acquaintances and strangers who were thronging into the place.
George brought out a miniature racing sled—his most prized possession—and a perfect reproduction of the one "Scotty" used in the Big Races, being built strongly, but on delicate lines. Danny pulled another, only a trifle less rakish, beside it. They were conversing in low tones. "We got pretty nearly half an hour t' wait, Dan, an' it's fierce t' have all these people that don't know a blame thing about racin' standin' round here givin' us fool advice. Why, if we was t' do what they're tellin', we'd be down an' out before we reached Powell's dredge on Bourbon Creek. Most of 'em don't know any more 'bout dogs 'n I do 'bout—'bout—"
"'Rithmetic," suggested Danny promptly.
"Well, anyway, we got t' run our own race. Dad says there ain't any cut an' dried rules for dog racin' beyond knowin' your dogs, an' usin' common sense. Each time it's different, 'cordin' t' the dogs, the distance, the trail an' the weather. An' you have t' know just what it's best t' do whatever happens, even if it never happened before."
"Gee," sighed Danny heavily, "winnin' automobile races an' horse races is takin' candy from babies besides this here dog racin'. I hadn't any idea how much there was to it till we begun t' train the dogs, an' talk it over with your father. I was awful nervous last night, I don't believe I slept hardly any, worryin' about the things that can go wrong, no matter how careful you are."
"I didn't sleep any, either. I got t' thinkin' about Queen hatin' Eskimos, an' chasin' 'em every time she gets a chance. It 'ud be a terrible thing if she saw one out on the tundra, an' left the trail t' try and ketch him; or if she smelled some of 'em in the crowd an' made a break for 'em just when she ought t' be ready t' start. An' you know there's bound t' be loads of Eskimos, 'cause they'd rather see a dog race than eat a seal-blubber banquet."
"That's so; but Spot is good friends with all the natives 'round town, an' he's stronger'n Queen, an' wouldn't leave the trail for anything but snowbirds or rabbits, so he'd hold 'er down. An' I guess Baldy'd be kinda neutral, 'cause he don't pay attention t' Eskimos or anything when he's workin'. I never saw a dog mind his own business like Baldy. That's worth somethin' in a race." The inactivity was becoming unbearable. "George, if you and Ben'll get the dogs into harness, I'll go an' see what's doin' with some of the others. It'll sort o' fill in time."