Alaska -- Gold discoveries -- Fiction; Western stories
“Jist so,” agreed Enright, “That’s what I figgered. However, it ain’t
no harm in me takin’ ’em along up fer you, is they, to save you the
trouble? I’ll see they’re well took care of. Without sayin’ nothin’
I’ll hit town with these here six dogs an’ begin runnin’ ’em up an’
down on the ice. The boys’ll crowd down there to watch ’em run an’ then
they’ll begin to take bets offen Dalzene. Of course it might be such
a thing that Dalzene will come down along with the rest an’ he might
somehow git the idee that this here was the team we was hangin’ our
dust onto. An’ he might figger, him knowin’ dogs a little, that his’n
could beat ’em without half tryin’. It’s ten days yet, till Chris’mus,
an’ every day I’ll work them dogs out on the ice, an’ every day we kin
kind of cover more an’ more of Dalzene’s money, till we’ve got it all
covered. Then the day before Chris’mus you come along an’ hearin’ how
they’s a race you enter your team. Meanwhile all these here bets has
be’n made, the money is up, an’ Dalzene has bet agin’ the whole field
fer his team to win. That’s what he’s offerin’, his team agin the
field, an’ accordin’ to his way of seein’ it, it’s as good a bet as
any, ’cause he says he don’t care if they’s a dozen teams or one, he’s
only got to beat the best of ’em anyhow, an’ he ain’t worryin’ none but
what he kin do it.
“Now, the boys thinks that if we all make a clean-up on this here
ungodless party from Rampart, on account of your team winnin’ this
here race, it wouldn’t be no more than fair to add ten percent of our
winnin’s to the prize. What do you say to that?”
Gordon’s eyes rested upon the face of his daughter. “What do ye say,
lass? The dogs are yours, you’ve raised ’em an’ fooled wi’ ’em an’
broke ’em, an’ if we win the money’s yours.”
“Oh, I’d love to do it!” cried the girl, her eyes shining. “And I
believe we can win, too. But what if he backs down when he sees my
team? What if he won’t race?”
“We aim to fix that. We all will lay our bets with the understandin’
that if he backs out he loses. He’s got to race an’ win to take the
money.”
“How many miles shall we race?” she asked eagerly.
Enright considered: “Dalzene he’s made his crack that he’ll run
anywheres from one mile to a hundred. The boys kind of left it to you
fer to name the distance. As I said, them dogs of Dalzene’s looks good
an’ fit. But they’s only seven of ’em, agin’ your ten. An’ besides, his
sled is a heavy, rough ice proposition, built more fer freightin’ than
speed.”
“But, so is mine,” interrupted the girl.
“Sure, I know. But the mail carrier’s ain’t. An’ bein’ as he’ll have
all the dust he kin scrape together invested in this here scheme for
Christianizin’ Jake Dalzene, it ain’t goin’ to be none hard whatever,
fer to borrow that sled off him. So, takin’ it all in all, as the
feller says, I guess we better make it a middlin’ long drag. Say,
anyways forty or fifty mile. The longer it is, the heavier the pull is
goin’ to be on Dalzene’s dogs.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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