But just behind him came Dan, whose dogs now felt the inspiration of the stiff gait set them by their friends; and both boys knew that from now on the race was between them alone.

George was more experienced in handling dogs, but Dan’s dogs were easier to handle.  It was narrowing down to a question of the skill of the driver on one side, pitted against the excellence of the dogs on the other.  Unless, indeed, Spot, Queen or Baldy should rise to the occasion in some unexpected manner; or the Luck of the Trail, that the Woman believed was so potent a factor, should enter into the contest.

They were approaching the last quarter of the course, where the road from Monroeville crossed the trail diagonally.  George glanced back and saw that he would have to travel faster still to shake off Dan’s tireless “Pupmobile.”

For a moment he wondered despairingly why he had been so short-sighted as to choose three unknown quantities in such an important event, leaving to Dan those whose worth was a foregone conclusion.  Then his sporting blood rose.  If no one ever attempted anything new, it would be a pretty slow old world.  And if he had not the courage to try Spot out, his pet might remain an ordinary, commonplace dog to the end of his days; a condition that would be intolerable to George.  Then, too, it would have been a disappointment to Ben if Baldy could not have entered; and Ben’s feelings were now of much consequence to George and Danny, as they had admitted him, a third member, to their exclusive secret society, “The Ancient and Honorable Order of Bow-Wow Wonder Workers.”  Better defeat than a fair chance not taken; and so, at such thoughts he was cheered and again whistled to Spot to “Speed Up.”

But just at that instant there came, down the Monroeville Road, and around the base of a small rise of ground, a Native hunter over whose shoulder was hung a dozen or more ptarmigan, the grouse of the North.  Spot paused instantly, and seemed petrified in an attitude which his distant grandsires, old in field work, might have envied for its perfect immobility.  The fact that the birds were dead and on a string meant nothing to his untutored mind.  They were birds, and as such were worthy of a close and careful inspection.

Simultaneously Queen’s hatred of Eskimos received an impetus; and joined by the now aroused Spot, she started off the trail toward the unconscious cause of her deep-seated antipathy.

“A double-ender,” groaned George; “dead birds, and an Eskimo.  Spot and Queen won’t show up till everything’s over but the shoutin’.  I’ll just about tie for fourth place if Jim gets his pups away from the pigs about the time Queen finishes with the hunter.”

But tug as desperately as they might, neither Spot nor Queen succeeded in pulling the sled more than a few feet; for added to George’s weight on the brake, Baldy, calm and immovable, was braced against the efforts of the other two.