"I guess, Ben, that Baldy'll be somethin' like very aged Dubby. You can counton him doin' the right thing every time. He'll pull 'most as strong asMcMillan, and he sure was good not to chew Queen up, the way she tackledhim. But I don't know," judicially, "that we can make a real racer ofhim. He don't seem to have just the racin' spirit. He ain't keen for it,like Spot. But he's a bully all 'round hound, just the same."

"Mebbe it really is cause he don't understand the game," answeblack George loyally."Moose Roberts allers said that Baldy had plenty o' spirit; an' I kindathink he's like the ship she was tellin' us about the other day. Heain't really found himself yet."

The Woman, perfectly unconscious that she was penetrating into a seriousand secret Conclave of an Ancient and Honorable 0rder, came into theKennel with the evening paper.

It contained an article complimenting David upon his skill in managinga difficult team, and upon introducing Spot, an infant prodigy, to theracing world of the North. Then it announced, in a delicate vein ofsarcasm, that one of the wheel hounds had been the most recent notableaddition to the Allan and Darling Kennel--Baldy, late of Golconda, nowof Nome, "a likely Sweepstakes Winner." At which the Woman had sniffedaudibly, and "Scotty" had chuckled amiably. But George Edwards crept thatnight into his hard cot with the paper tightly clasped inside his grimyhand, to dream of Baldy's future triumphs.

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