Lou Gordon knew her father. She realized the absolute futility of further argument. Without another word she drew on her parka and, leaving the old man to pack up the camp outfit, stepped out into the keen air. At the shrill creak of the sagging door which she closed behind her, heads appeared above the dark furry mounds that dotted the surface of the snow, and below the pricked ears, ten pairs of eyes glowed in the reflected starlight like live coals. Here and there a dog got up, stretched with a prodigious yawn and settled back upon his haunches to eye the girl in eager expectancy. Of all the dogs only Skookum presumed to approach her. Stepping close he raised his pointed muzzle and the smouldering yellow eyes searched the face of his mistress. Dropping to one knee, Lou threw her arms about the great neck, and a dry convulsive sob shook her as she buried her face in the thick hair. Only for a moment she remained thus, and as she released the dog, his long red tongue shot out and caressed her cheek. And as he stalked slowly to his place at the head of the row of waiting dogs, Lou noted that the great white plume of his tail that generally flaunted high above his neck was carried at half mast. “He knows,” she whispered to the brilliantly glittering stars, “Skookum knows that there is something wrong, and by tomorrow, they’ll all know it. Oh, why can’t he listen to reason!” From a canvas bag she drew a ball composed of tallow and boiled rice which Skookum deftly caught in mid-air. One after another the dogs caught and wolfed down their portions, and righting the sled, the girl proceeded to harness them, each dog, as his name was called, eagerly taking his accustomed place in the team, as she deftly adjusted the harness. When a few minutes later Old Man Gordon opened the door, the great ten team stood ready for the trail. The camp outfit lashed to the sled, the girl held out her whip to her father: “You better drive them on in,” she said, “It will give you a chance to get acquainted with them a little, and it won’t be quite so much of a surprise to them, tomorrow.” “Losh, lass, a dog team is a dog team. I’ve drove hundreds of ’em in my time.” Nevertheless he took the whip, and gave the command to mush. The dogs remained stationary, and cracking the whip loudly, the old man repeated the command: “Hi, mush! Mush-u!”