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?"