contestant effectively and finally. "For looks an' style, I can tell
you, George, there ain't any of 'em that's a patch on my team. Some
Pupmobile!"

He glanced proudly at the wide-awake dogs who showed their breeding and
education at every turn, and then toward George's ill-assorted
collection: Spot, rangy, raw-boned, and awkward, Queen fretful and
mutinous, and Baldy so stolid that it was evident he was receiving no
inspiration from the enthusiasm about him.

"Of course you can beat me drivin' without half tryin', George, an' if
Spot's feet wasn't so big, an' Queen didn't have such a rotten
disposition, an' Baldy knew he was alive, it 'ud be a regular cinch for
you. But the way things is, believe me, I'm goin' t' give you a run for
your money, with good old Mego's 'houn' dogs.'"

Both George and Dan had, of course, like all small boys in Nome, at one
time or another, made swift and hazardous dashes of a few hundred yards,
in huge chopping bowls purloined from their mothers' pantries; and drawn
by any one dog that was available for the instant, and would tamely
submit to the degradation. An infantile amusement, they felt now, in the
face of this real Sporting Event that was engaging the attention of the
entire town. And to complete the feeling that this was indeed no mere
child's play, the Woman came to them with two cups of hot tea to warm
them up, and steady their nerves on the trail. This they graciously
accepted and drank, in spite of its very unpleasant taste; for "Scotty"
always drank tea while giving Matt the last few necessary directions
before a race.

"All ready, boys, time to leave," called the Big Man cheerily. "Peril