"On, Baldy; on, boys," and on they came out of the long reaches of utter desolation, of dreary monotony, of lifeless calm, with a rush that soon brought Johnson in view. "Gee"--they whirled to the right and by him with unexpected ease; then on and on still, till they could see the others. Baldy, spurred by that to yet stronger efforts, plunged forward with renewed vigor until he seemed, with his team-mates, to touch the drifted snows as lightly as a gull skims the crested waves. When nearly abreast of those who had been setting so fast a pace, Allan, in a low voice, tense with the excitement of the moment, called again to the dogs. "Speed up, Baldy; speed up, boys. Don't let the Siberian Fuzzy-Wuzzies beat you again. Show them what your long legs are good for--Alaskans to the front," and Baldy, with an almost incredible burst of speed, shot past them, and was at last in the lead in that mad, headlong drive for Nome. There was no hint of the laggard now in Tom, Dick and Harry--no suspicion of "staleness" in their keen pride in their work; Irish and Rover, ever fleet and responsive, needed no urging; Jack McMillan gave his stupendous energy, his superb intelligence with loyal abandon; and Baldy, as well as "Scotty," felt that each dog in the entire team had proved the wisdom of his choice by a willing service now to the driver he loved. Fort Davis! The thunderous boom of the guns heralded the approach of the first team. Nome, up the coast, was in a furor. Once more the people gathered quickly in the streets, and hurried toward the gaily illuminated stands to witness the finish of the great event. Though it was ten o'clock at night, the full moon and the radiance of the snow made everything shimmer and glitter with wonderful brilliancy. High above the lights of the little town, which seemed but a continuation of the stars, flamed the Way-Farer's Cross on the spire of St. Joseph's; huge bonfires cast a flickering crimson glow upon the frosted pinnacles of ice, and rockets rose and fell like sparkling jewels in the clear sky. Overhead fluttered a silken purse and the Trophy Cup, suspended by the Kennel Club colors from a wire that marked the end of the longest and most picturesque course in the racing world. The wild wailing of many wolf dogs, shrill whistles, the merry peal of bells, added to the deafening clamor--as far away over the frozen sea a dim black shadow came--a swiftly moving shadow that soon was engulfed in the swaying mob that surged to meet it. The Woman leaned from out the Judges' Stand, waving streamers of White and Gold in joyous welcome. Ben Edwards, thrilling with pride and happiness, slipped through the jostling crowd, and saw coming to him, down the Silver Trail, an ugly, rough-coated, faithful dog--bringing in his triumph, a justification of the boy's unshaken faith, a reward for his unfaltering affection.