“The hell she _didn’t_!” exclaimed Johnny Atline, whose presence had been entirely forgotten in the interest that had centered upon Enright’s last bet. “I know, ’cause I was up to my cabin, an’ I rid down with her. She rested ’em ten minutes at the turn, an’ they carried double comin’ down--her an’ me, both. I’ve saw dogs I thought could run before--but _Gawd_!” CHAPTER XIII THE START The camp of Nolan was early astir the following morning. The entertainment committee, consisting of Crim, the trader; Clem Wilcox, proprietor of the Aurora Borealis Saloon; and Henshaw, keeper of the roadhouse; had decreed that the dog race was to start at eight o’clock, in order that the other events should be out of the way before the finish of the race late in the afternoon. At six o’clock Old Man Gordon accompanied his daughter to the dog kennels which, in the land of the strong cold, is a necessary adjunct to every roadhouse. Lou handed her father the canvas bag containing the balls of tallow and rice: “You had better feed them this morning, dad,” she advised, “Begin with Skookum and toss one to each. Then, we’ll harness them and take a turn or two on the river. It won’t do any harm for them to understand that it’s all right for you to be driving. They’ll work for you, I’m sure--if you will keep the whip off of them and don’t confuse them with too much yelling at critical moments.” Strangely enough, Old Man Gordon meekly acquiesced in everything the girl suggested. He had read disapproval of his decision to drive the race in the faces of the men of Nolan--a disapproval that, while it merely served to strengthen the decision, nevertheless burdened him with a sense of responsibility. “I took them over the whole course, myself, yesterday,” Lou informed him when they were upon the river. “And I made it in seven hours and forty minutes.” “Ye did!” exclaimed the man in astonishment. “Why, lass, it don’t seem possible.” “I did it, though. And I rested them for ten minutes at the turn. You must rest them there, too, if you run them all the way up. The trail is good and fast, and plenty of room to pass except in a few stretches. But remember this: Don’t use the whip or crack it close to Skookum’s ears! Oh, why won’t you let me drive?” “I’ve told ye ’tis a man’s job, an’ that’s an’ end to it,” he replied, and the girl accepted the ultimatum as she noticed that the lines hardened at the corners of the old man’s mouth. “You take them down and back for a mile or so, and get all you can out of them. I want to be sure they understand that they’ve got to run for you.” “_Down_ an’ back!” exclaimed Gordon, “Why not _up_ an’ back? There’s a gude wide trail all cleared for the finish.” Lou smiled: “We don’t want to take a chance that they’ll stop, or even hesitate at that same place when the race is on. They might think that is what’s expected of them.”