“I’m afraid, Mr. McMillan,” commented the Woman seriously, “that these personalities are meant for you.  Just because your first owner spoiled you, and the second paid the highest price ever given for a dog in the North, all accuse you of thinking yourself far too important to be classed with the common herd whose chief virtue is obedience.  They say you lost a great race by being ungovernable.  Guilty, or not guilty?” The brown eyes that had been wont to blaze so fiercely now looked pleadingly into the Woman’s face, and the sable muzzle was pressed more closely against her.  “They started you off all wrong, Jack.  They let you become headstrong, and then tried to force you arbitrarily into their ways, instead of persuading you.  If you had been a human being, all this would have been considered Temperament, but being only a dog it was Temper, and was dealt with as such.”  McMillan gravely extended his paw in appreciation of her championship.

“Oh, I didn’t only just mean Jack when I was talkin’ about dogs not mindin’,” explained George with embarrassed haste; for he knew of the Woman’s fondness for the dog and did not wish to hurt her feelings, much as he condemned her judgment in selecting such a favorite.

Her preference had dated from the night when she had entered the Kennel after a long absence, and had seen the stranger in the half light of the June midnight.  He had changed somewhat since the imperious days when he had threatened the life of his trainer, and she had not recognized the Incorrigible in the handsome dog who had greeted her with such flattering cordiality.

He soon manifested an abject devotion to her, and would barely listen even to “Scotty” when she was near—­the moment he heard her footsteps howling insistently till she ignored all of the others and came directly to him.  It became a matter of pride with her to take him into the streets where people would still look askance at the erstwhile “man-eater,” and comment on her courage in handling the “brute.”  While she and the “brute” had the little joke between them, which she later confided to Ben, that Jack McMillan’s misdemeanors were merely the result of an undisciplined nature handled unsympathetically, and that at heart he was the gentlest dog in Nome.

“Jack minds all right now,” ventured Ben.  “I seen him the other day with Mr. Allan, an’ he minded as good as any of ’em—­even Kid.”

“Well, none of them could do better than that.  ‘Scotty’ says that Kid has every admirable quality that a dog could possibly possess, and that without a doubt he is the most promising racing leader in Alaska.  But of course Jack would have to mind or he would not be here.  The first thing a new dog must realize is that ‘Scotty’ is the sole authority, and that obedience is the first law of the Kennel.  Even with his first racing driver I believe it was more a case of misunderstanding on both sides than wilful disobedience.  But it grew to a point where it became almost a matter of life or death for one or the other.”