“Reason with him! I’ve tried every possible argument I could think of. Even showed him how I could handle them on the trail, after he’d mixed up with an outfit we met. But it’s no use. You know dad.” “Yup, he’s the settest man when he gits an idee in his head I ever seen or heard tell of. Well, if that’s how it is, it’s got to be that way, I s’pose. Mebbe the dogs is so good that anyone could win with ’em. That’s our only chance. Unless----” “Unless what?” “I was thinkin’, mebbe, we might sort of kidnap him till after the race.” “No, no! Don’t do that. He would never forgive you--or me either. No, we’ve got to let him go.” “All right, Miss Lou. You’re the doctor.” “At least, I’ll try to persuade him to take them over the course today, so they’ll know the trail.” A few moments later she approached her father: “Dad, don’t you think it would be wise to take the dogs over the course today, so they will be familiar with the trail. You ought to know it yourself.” “Losh, lass! I’ve be’n to Johnny Atline’s, an’ as for the dogs they can’t get off the trail, it’s a ridin’ trail all the way.” “I know, but the dogs will travel any trail they know better than they will a strange trail.” “No, no. Now don’t you go botherin’ your head about that race. You leave it all to me. Even wi’ the dogs broke bad as they are, I’ll win. Go on now an’ enjoy ye’reself. I’m goin’ over there wi’ the boys.” And turning away, he followed the men who had already started for the saloon. “He won’t even take them over the course,” she reported to Pete Enright, when her father had passed out of hearing. “Dalzene’s had his up an’ back three or four times.” The girl who had been regarding the toes of her moccasins, suddenly looked up. “Where is Dalzene?” “Oh, he ain’t up yet. He got pretty well loaded up on hooch last night, an’ he’ll lay abed till noon.” “I’m going to take the dogs over the trail myself! Tell me, how will I know Johnny Atline’s cabin.” “Can’t miss it. Keep on up the river fer twenty-five mile. There’s an island right opposite Johnny’s claim with two big rocks standin’ on the lower end of it. The boys was up the other day an’ cleared a wide place in the snow for a turnin’ place. You can’t go wrong, they ain’t no trail beyond, to speak of.” “Come on down to the river and see me off,” smiled the girl, “and I want you to time me.” “Eight o’clock right on the dot!” cried Enright. The girl waved her hand, and started her dogs, “Look for me about four!” she cried over her shoulder, as the great brutes bounded away. Enright grinned: “’Bout six will hit her closter,” he opined, and turned toward the saloon. CHAPTER XII “TWENTY MINUTES TO FOUR”