On the summit of Death Valley Hill she halted and fed the dogs the while she took careful note of the lay of the land. So engrossed was she that a dog outfit from the north was almost upon her before she noticed it. A moment later it drew up beside hers. The driver’s bared hand fumbled for a moment with his snow goggles, and in that moment the girl noted that the goggles were of the Eskimo type, consisting merely of two bits of hollowed wood provided with slits. The goggles came off, and she found herself looking into a pair of grey-blue eyes set deeply in a face that was wind-tanned to the color of a native. Then she was aware that the eyes were smiling, and that a fan-shaped spread of tiny wrinkles radiated from their corners. The lips were smiling, too, as they greeted her in jargon: “_Klahowyam!_” “_Klahowya six!_” smiled the girl, gazing frankly into the blue-grey eyes. Somehow those eyes seemed to fascinate her. They looked young, and yet--no, not young. There was a hint of deep wisdom in their depths, but the face was not the face of an old man. White even teeth showed between the smiling lips, and every movement of the well poised body bespoke health, and strength, and vigor. He was speaking: “Great dogs you’ve got there!” Before she could warn him, he had stepped swiftly to Skookum’s side, and his bared hand was laid upon the big leader’s head. “Oh, look out! Please!” he glanced up at the cry, and again his lips smiled, as he noted the look of utter amazement that showed in the girl’s face as she stared at her great lead dog whose amber eyes were gazing mildly into the man’s face. “Be careful! Skookum don’t like strangers. No one has ever touched his head before--not even dad!” “Well, then, I’m not a stranger--and I’m glad. Skookum and I understand each other, don’t we Skookum?” The hand pulled playfully at the great dog’s ear. “But--I don’t understand!” cried the girl, “He couldn’t have known you! I raised him, myself, and he’s never been away from me, except----” “Except when?” asked the man, so quickly that the girl wondered. She was about to reply, when he forestalled her: “Except about two months or so ago,” he said, “And then, he wasn’t away from you for very long.” “Why--how do you know? Do you know about Dalzene?” The man laughed: “Never heard of him,” he answered. “Then, how do you know?” The stranger’s fingers were caressing the scars of the twitch that still showed on the great dog’s jaws. “I know because these scars are only about two or three months old. And I know that you never jerked him around with a twitch.” “Dalzene stole him. He’s a horrible old hooch-runner, and I won a race from him, or rather dad did, over on the Koyukuk, and then he stole him when he found I wouldn’t sell him. But Skookum broke his chain and came home.”