It was gray and cold when they left Watson Lake on the last leg of their journey on the Alaska Highway.
“At Whitehorse, we’ll give the car and truck a rest and take to the air,” Dr. Steele explained. “The Canadian government has put a plane at the professor’s disposal for as long as we’re up here.”
But the big attraction at Whitehorse as far as the boys and Tagish Charley were concerned was the big dog-sled race to Skagway.
“The professor says it’s okay with him if Jerry and I ride ballast,” Sandy informed the Indian. “That’s if it’s all right with you?”
“Okay by me,” Charley said. He glanced sideways at Jerry. “But this boy keep eating so much he get too fat to sit on sled.”
Sandy let out a guffaw and Jerry pretended to sulk. “You guys have a nerve,” he said. “You both lick your plates cleaner than Black Titan does.”
“If Tubby, here, is too much of a load for the huskies,” Sandy suggested, “we can always let him run behind the sled.”
Suddenly, Charley hunched down and squinted through the windshield. “Plane,” he announced curtly.
The boys followed his gaze but could see nothing. “Where?” Sandy asked.
Charley pointed toward a line of snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance surrounded by blue haze. Sandy saw a speck that moved out of sight behind one of the peaks. He couldn’t make out what it was.