At Timber the time was passing with discouraging rapidity. Nothing they could do seemed to have any beneficial effect on Baldy's legs--the legs that had been such a matter of pride to the boy in the old Golconda days. In the races it is the custom to carry, at intervals, any dogs who need to recuperate, but Baldy had always manifested a certain scorn of these "passengers"; and "Scotty" knew that it would only be by force that he could be kept off his feet. "Bill, you hold the dog; and Paul, if you'll keep the mouth of the sleeping bag open, I'll try to get Baldy into it." Poor Baldy resisted, but he was in the hands of his friends, so that his resistance was of necessity less violent than he could have wished; and in spite of his opposition he was tied in the bag, and gently lifted upon the sled. After thoughtful consideration, "Scotty" placed Irish and Rover at the head of the team. "They're good dogs; mighty good dogs, but they're not used to the grind like Baldy." He took his place at the handle-bars. "I'll try my hardest, boys, but every chance is against me now." Before he could give the word to the new leaders, there was the sound of gnawing, and the quick rending of cloth. He turned to see Baldy's head emerge from the bag, his eyes blazing with determination and his sharp fangs tearing the fastenings apart, and the hide to shreds. "Baldy," he called; but Baldy threw himself from the sled with evident pain, but in a frenzy of haste. With intense amazement they watched him drag himself, with the utmost difficulty, out of the sled, and up to the front of the team. He paused a moment, and then by a supreme effort started off, expecting the others to follow. There was no response to his desperate appeal--for they were not used to Baldy as a loose leader. Again he came back, and again endeavored to induce his team-mates to go with him down the trail, but in vain; they waited a word from their master. The men stood speechless; and the dog, whimpering pitifully, crept close to Allan and looking up into his face reproachfully seemed to beg to be restored to his rightful place, and tried to show him that just so long as there was life in Baldy's body, "Scotty" would have a leader. Paul Kegsted and Bill Allan hastily disappeared around opposite corners of the building to meet on the other side with eyes suspiciously wet. "Bill, did you ever see anything like that," demanded Kegsted tremulously, "for grit and spirit and--" "And brave and loving service," added Bill, swallowing hard. While "Scotty's" voice broke as, leaning down to stroke the dog tenderly, he said, "I know you're game, Baldy, game to the end; but it can't be done, and I'll hook you up to prove it." To his astonishment Baldy moved forward; very, very slowly at first, then slightly faster and with less and less stiffness, until in an hour or so of moderate speed he was himself once more.