“It served her right for not being as good a sport as most of the Eskimos.  And anyway, every one on Seward Peninsula, of any nationality, is supposed to know that whatever a driver or his dogs need, in the All Alaska Sweepstakes, should be his without a dissenting voice or a rebellious foot.”

“Moose Jones used to say,” quoted Ben rather timidly, “that most Malamutes are stubborn.  Was the leader you spoke of, Mukluk, stubborn too, in the race you won with him?”

“Yes, he was stubborn, all right.  Do you recall,” turning to the Woman, “the night I made him go ’round one corner for half an hour because he refused to take the order the first time, and I was afraid of that trait in him.  It did not take long, however, to show him that I could spend just as much time making him obey as he could spend defying me.  There’s no use in whipping a dog like that.  And with all his obstinacy, he was, next to old Dubby, more capable of keeping a trail in a storm than any dog I’ve ever handled.  He had pads[2] of leather, and sinews of steel.  He was surely shy on beauty, though.”

[Footnote 2:  Feet.]

“Of course,” her voice dropping to almost a whisper, “I would not admit this anywhere but right here, in the privacy of the Kennel, and I wouldn’t say it here if the dogs could understand; but when it comes to actual good looks, ‘Scotty,’” the Woman confessed, “we are really not in it with Bobby Brown’s big, imposing Loping Malamutes, or Captain Crimin’s cunning little Siberians, with their pointed noses, prick ears, and fluffy tails curled up over their backs like plumes.”

“Yes, they do make a most attractive team,” admitted Allan justly; “and they’re mighty good dogs too.  But somehow they seem to lack the pride and responsiveness that I find in those with bird-dog ancestry.  Of course each man prefers his own type, the one he has deliberately chosen; and Fox Ramsay, and John or Charlie Johnson are convinced that the tireless gait of their ‘Russian Rats’ in racing more than offsets the sudden bursts of great speed of our ‘Daddy Long Legs.’”

[Illustration:  A team of Siberians]

The Woman shrugged her shoulders.  “Let us hope for the sake of the sport that the matter will not be definitely decided for some time to come.  If, as Mark Twain says, ’it is a difference of opinion that makes horse racing,’ it seems to me it’s about the widest possible difference of opinion that makes dog racing; and each year’s races have made the difference more hopelessly pronounced.”

“Well, there’ll always be disagreements as to the merits of the various racing dogs; but for a good all around intelligent and faithful worker, I have never found a dog that could outdo Dubby here,” and “Scotty” affectionately caressed the old huskie who had come into the Kennel with his friend Texas Allan, the cat, to find out what was interfering with an expected walk.

“Sometimes Dub and I used to have disputes about a choice of roads, the thickness of ice, or other details of traveling; but I will say that he always listened tolerantly to all I had to offer in the way of suggestions, and wagged his tail courteously to show there was no ill feeling, even if he did get his way in the end.  And, frankly, he was generally right.”