Baldy of Nome | Page 2

at the
invitation to ride with him behind a team that had always seemed as
wonderful as Cinderella's Fairy Coach. He hesitated, and then the
Woman in the sled beckoned encouragingly. "Get in with me; and your

dog may come too," she said as she rearranged the heavy fur robes to
make room. The boy advanced with painful shyness, and awkwardly
climbed into the place assigned him. The Woman laid her hand on
Baldy's collar to draw him in also, but the boy exclaimed quickly, "No,
ma'am, don't do that, please; he ain't really cross, but he won't ride in
anythin' as long's he's got a leg to stand on; an' sometimes he growls if
people he don't know touches him."
"Dogs and boys never growl at me, because I love them; and he does
not look as if he really had a leg to stand on," she replied smilingly. But
the boy nervously persisted. "Please let him go--his legs is all right. He
looks kind o' run down jest now 'cause he"--the boy felt a tightening at
his throat, and winked hard to keep the tears from starting
again--"'cause he ain't got much appetite. But when he's eatin' good his
legs is jest great. Why, there ain't no other dog in Golconda that's got as
strong legs as Baldy when he's--when he's eatin' good," he repeated
hastily. "An' Golconda's plumb full o' fine dogs."
"If that's so," said "Scotty," "I think I shall have to take a look at those
Golconda wonders before the winter fairly sets in; and maybe you can
give me a few pointers."
For a mile or so the boy sat spellbound, drinking in the casual
comments of "Scotty" upon the dogs in the team, as if they were pearls
of wisdom dropping from the lips of an Oracle. He was not so much
interested in the Woman's replies, for they displayed a lack of technical
information that contrasted unfavorably in the boy's mind with the keen
and accurate insight that Allan showed in every word on that most vital
subject.
Vaguely the boy remembered having once heard that she had become a
partner in the racing team for mere amusement of the sport, instead of
from a serious, high-minded interest, and that of course did not entitle
her to the same respect you could feel for one to whom the care and
culture of the dog assumed the dignity of a vocation. Then, too, she had
spoken slightingly of Baldy's legs. As a human being he could not but
respond to her friendly overtures, but as a dog fancier she held no place
in his esteem.

As they approached the divide where the trail for Golconda branched
from the main road, an idea suddenly came to the boy. He had watched
the harmony between Allan and his dogs; had noted their willingness,
their affection for "Scotty," and his consideration for them. And as the
pace became slower, and he realized that they were nearly at the end of
this fate-given interview, he tremblingly gasped out the question that
had been seething through his mind with such persistence. "Mr. Allan,
would you like to buy Baldy?"
"Buy Baldy!" exclaimed the man in surprise. "Why, I thought you and
Baldy were chums--I had no idea he was for sale."
"He wasn't till jest now, not till I saw how yer dogs love you; but I got
t' git rid of him. It's been comin' fer a long time, an' I guess to-day's
finished it."
The man leaned over and looked into the tear-stained face. "Are you in
some trouble about him? Perhaps it's not so bad as you think, and
maybe we can help you without taking Baldy."
But the boy went on determinedly. "No, sir, I want you to take him; it'd
be the best thing fer him, an' I kin stan' it someway. A feller has ter
stan' a lot o' things he don't like in this world, but I hope," feelingly, "all
of 'em ain't as hard as givin' up his best friend."
As if to avoid the sympathy he felt was forthcoming, he plunged hastily
into the details that had led to the unexpected offer. "I'm Ben Edwards.
Maybe you knew my father; he was killed in the cave-in on the June
Fraction. Baldy was only a little pup then, but Dad was awful fond of
him."
"I remember," said the Woman thoughtfully; "and you have been in
difficulties since, and need the money you could get for Baldy. Is that
it?"
"It ain't only the money, but none o' the men at the Camp care much fer
Baldy, an' they ain't kind to him. Only Moose Jones. When he was here
he wouldn't let the men tease Baldy ner me, an' he made