At eight o’clock the following morning MacShane appeared at the corral to help Ames harness the dogs. They had just concluded the operation when through the gate walked Lou Gordon. Both men stared at the figure that approached them. The girl’s face was deathly white, and it was evident from her tightly-pressed lips and her slow movements that it was only by the supremest effort of will she managed to keep on her feet at all. MacShane sprang to her side: “Miss Gordon!” he cried, “What are you doing here? The doctor said it would be several days before you would be out of danger! How did you get here? You can hardly stand!” The girl regarded him with flashing eyes: “You should be proud of your work,” she faltered, with withering scorn. “But, you should have waited until this morning. I have had a night’s rest--and I am perfectly well. I will win the race in spite of you and your partner, Dalzene.” She turned to Ames who stood beside the dogs. “I’ll take them, now,” she said, “Did you go over the harness?” “Yes, Miss--but, you ain’t goin’ to try an’ drive--an’ you can’t hardly stand on yer feet! Why, you won’t even git to the startin’ place!” MacShane interrupted, his words rasping harshly, with a note the girl had never before heard in his voice. “I drive those dogs!” and as Lou Gordon stared into his face she saw that the blue-grey eyes were hard. “You--you--” she faltered, as her two bare hands clutched at her breast. Without a word, MacShane took one swift step, gathered her into his arms, and motioning Ames to open the door of the log house, carried her in, despite her furious struggles. But the struggles were futile and short lived. The violent illness had left the girl so weak and dizzy that the exertion of dressing herself and walking to the corral had taxed her strength to the utmost. As MacShane carried her into the room her muscles suddenly relaxed, and she lay limp and lifeless in his arms while Mrs. Ames hurriedly arranged the bed which had not yet been made up for the day. From the moment his arms closed about her, MacShane had been conscious of a strange, indescribable thrill that welled from the very depths of his being--a thrill so new, and so wonderful that he stood as one in a trance holding the girl’s body close against his own until the words of Ames roused him to action. “Lay her on the bed, Burr, an’ I’ll hunt up the doc while the old woman tries to fetch her around. Come on, now, it’s time you got a-goin’. You got to git the driver’s name changed, an’ it’s gittin’ along to startin’ time. We’ll see that she’s took care of.” Very gently MacShane laid the girl upon the bed, and with one long look into the pallid face, he turned abruptly and left the room. CHAPTER XXIV THE ALASKA SWEEPSTAKES