Baldy knew that something was wrong. His most diverting efforts had
failed to gain the usual reward of a caress, or at least a word of
understanding; and so, dog-like to express his sympathy, he came close
beside his friend and licked his hand. Always, before, this had called
attention to the fact that Baldy was ready to share any trouble with the
boy--but to-day the rough and grimy little hand, stiff and blue from the
cold, did not respond, and instead only brushed away the tears that
rolled slowly down the pinched cheeks. Sometimes the slight body shook
with sobs that the boy tried manfully to suppress; but when one is
chilled, and tired and hungry, and in the shadow of a Great Tragedy, the
emotions are not easy to control.

With unseeing eyes and dragging steps, the boy trudged along the snowy
trail, dreading the arrival at Golconda Camp. For there was the House of
Judgment, where all of the unfortunate events of that most unhappy day
would be reviewed sternly, though with a certain harsh justice, that
could result in nothing less than a sentence of final separation from
Baldy. And so when the dog in his most subtle and delicate manner showed
his deep love for the boy, it only made the thought of the inevitable
parting harder to bear.

So completely was Ben lost in his own gloomy reflections that he did not
hear the sound of bells behind him; and it was not until a cheery voice
called out demanding the right of way that he stepped aside to let a
rapidly approaching dog team pass. As it came closer he saw that it was
the Allan and Darling team of Racers, and for the moment his eyes
brightened with interest and admiration as he noticed with a true
dog-lover's appreciation the perfect condition of the fleet-footed dogs,