For days after the return of the girl, Dalzene watched for a chance to strike. His first intent was to injure, or kill the leader. He tried to ingratiate himself with the keeper of the dogs at the hotel but the man had taken an intense liking to the girl with the dark eyes, and he cared for her dogs as though they had been his own. Furthermore, the man knew dogs, and loved them. On the day Dalzene appeared at the kennels, with the apparent intention of a friendly chat, the keeper noted instantly the actions of Skookum, who crouched on his chain with bared fangs. Noted, also, that Dalzene unconsciously shrank back from the dog, although not within several yards of him. “Great dog you’ve got there,” hazarded Dalzene, with a show of friendliness. “Yeh,” answered the man, dryly, as he met Dalzene’s glance with a stony stare. “I’m jest about to turn him loose fer a run.” As he spoke he started toward Skookum, whose smouldering amber eyes seemed to flash red lights as they fastened upon Dalzene. “For Christ’s sake--_don’t_!” Dalzene’s voice rose in a thin scream, and the next instant the corral gate slammed, and white faced, Dalzene stood peering through from the outside. Advancing to the gate, the keeper spoke deliberately, “I don’t know who you be--an’ I don’t give a damn. I do know that if you ever show up around this corral agin while that dog is here--what one of us leaves of you, the other one will finish. Now git!” And Dalzene “got.” Thereafter he sought other means of putting the Gordon dogs out of the running. He considered hiding behind an ice-hummock and taking a shot with a rifle as the dogs went past on their daily exercise run. But, decided the risk was too great in a country where there was no timber. Day after day he cudgeled his brains for a plan, and then, with the great event only a few days off he hit it. So effective, and yet so beautifully simple that the only wonder was he had not thought of it before. Whereupon, he purchased a bottle of liquor, and bided his time until the day before the race.