Wise old Tom, Dick and Harry, reluctant in the start, had saved themselves until they were most needed; and were now steady and reliable, as had been predicted—but they were not leaders for such a trial as this. Irish and Rover were too inexperienced for so much responsibility, Spot was too young, and McMillan too headstrong.
"Scotty" was without a leader.
Allan's consternation was echoed in Nome when the report of the mishap was given out—"Allan practically no hope. Baldy down and out; no other leader available. All other teams well ahead in good condition."
There was much diverse, and some heated, comment on the situation. But above the general clamor rose the strident tones of Black Mart, alluding with manifest satisfaction to the fact that Baldy was certainly proving himself a "quitter" now.
"Baldy may be lame, but he is not a quitter," denied the Woman wrathfully. "Besides, this race is never won—nor lost—till the first team is in," and she turned to comfort Ben Edwards.
He had been suddenly roused from happy thoughts by this disconcerting news. From his eyes there faded the glorious vision of the great University beside the Golden Gate; of the rose-covered cottage where his mother would have only pleasant things to do; of Moose Jones in a shiny hat and tailed coat receiving the plaudits of a whole State for his princely gifts to its chosen seat of learning—the vision of his own success laid upon the altar of love and gratitude. And instead he saw only the distant cabin at Timber, with poor Baldy crippled and suffering, bringing bitter disappointment to his friends; and his heart was filled with grief and longing for the dog.
Black Mart edged through the throng toward Jones. "I told you how it 'ud be, Moose; that pet o' yourn ain't comin' through as good as you thought he would when you was so willin' an' anxious t' bet your hard-earned dust on him. An' I reckon 'Scotty' Allan ain't so pleased with himself fer goin' agin what most ev'rybody said about his usin' that cur fer a leader."
"Speakin' o' bets, an' curs, Mart, ef you want t' do any more bettin', I'm willin't' accommodate you. I'm ready t' back my opinion that 'Scotty' kin come in first, without a leader, ef you think any ways diffr'ent."
Black Mart glanced again at the Bulletin and read slowly—"Rubbing tried without success. Baldy on sled. Irish and Rover probably in lead. McMillan's feet still tender. Another storm coming up. Outlook bad."
"Seems kinda onsportsman like, like bettin' on a sure thing; but ef you really insist, Moose, in the face o' this yere message, why you kin go as fur's you like. Mebbe a dollar 'ud suit you better, the way things is goin' now, than a thousand;" and the people laughed at the covert allusion to their previous wager. Moose Jones whitened visibly under his thick coat of tan at the insulting manner of his enemy. All of his hatred culminated in his desire to show his contempt for Mart and his predictions.