Baldy of Nome

by Esther Birdsall Darling

And Baldy, who now saw the world through different and more friendly eyes, learned that even the Woman was not wholly lacking in a certain sense of discrimination as she had proved when she had felt the muscles of his sturdy body and spanned the width of his broad chest with unqualified approval.

After a complete rest of a week or more, the training began again; for there was yet to be held the most important event of the year—the All Alaska Sweepstakes, which takes place early in April.

The runs were much longer and harder than the preliminary dashes for the Solomon Race; and sometimes they went back even to the Mountains which rose, rugged and majestic, from the endless white wastes to a sky brilliantly blue in the dazzling Arctic sunshine, or sodden and gray in a storm.

Totally different in temperament and methods from Kid and Dubby, Baldy manifested, nevertheless, many of the fundamental qualities that had so distinguished those wonderful leaders. And in communion with "Scotty" in their long hours of exercise, he not only began to understand the speech and the touch of his hand, but also his unexpressed moods. He knew when Allan was care-free, and satisfied with the team, or was discouraged by some unexpected act of stupidity or disobedience, though no syllable was spoken.

Not long before the Big Race, several unfortunate things happened in the Kennel to make Allan believe it was, as the "Wonder Workers" solemnly declared it, a "Hoodoo" year for the dogs. Rover wrenched his shoulder in a friendly tussle with one of the Mego pups, Tom cut his foot badly on a bit of broken glass, and Baldy developed a severe cold that made him feverish and short of breath.

It seemed at first as if they might not be able to enter a team at all, so many accidents combined against them; but the lure of the contest was too much for "Scotty." "We'll do our best. Lots of teams go in that are no stronger than ours at its weakest, and every entry that drops out makes it less interesting. Then don't forget the luck of the trail, in which you believe so thoroughly. Remember the Solomon Derby."

"I don't believe in working luck over time," she answered. "However, if you really think it would make any difference in the sport, of course we'll go in. I know you can do better," confidently, "with a poor team than most men with a good one."

But "Scotty" shook his head decidedly. "Don't think it. Our antagonists are all that they should be—men and dogs—and the most careful driving will not always overcome the weakness of the team."

Since the driver may use his own discretion as to the length and frequency of the stops to be made, he must have the ability to realize exactly how much rest he may take himself and give his dogs without the unnecessary loss of a moment. He must know what the other teams have done, and are capable of doing; he must drive his own race, and he must know how the other men are driving theirs. He must decide wisely how many dogs it is well to use—that matter also being optional with him. For it is an important point to select enough dogs to keep up to the required standard, yet not too many for good team work, in which individual peculiarities have been merged in general harmony of action.

No precaution is neglected to insure the comfort of the contestants. Commissary teams sent out by the Kennel Club leave supplies at all of the Road Houses and camps that are to be used as rest stations—drugs for emergencies, and all sorts of luxuries that would be too bulky to be carried in the racing sleds, but which are shared impartially at the different stops.