and the fine detail of sled and equipment.

Then his glance fell upon Baldy--thin, rough coated, and showing
evidences of neglect; upon Baldy to whom he could not now even offer
food and shelter, and a wave of bitterness swept over him.

"Come along, sonny, if you're going our way," and in the kindly little
man at the handle-bars the boy recognized "Scotty" Allan, the most
famous dog driver in Alaska. To the boy "Scotty" represented all that
was most admirable in the whole North, and he stood speechless at the
invitation to ride with him behind a team that had always seemed as
wonderful as Cinderella's Fairy Coach. He hesitated, and then the Woman
in the sled beckoned encouragingly. "Get in with me; and your dog may
come too," she said as she rearranged the heavy fur robes to make room.
The boy advanced with painful shyness, and awkwardly climbed into the
place assigned him. The Woman laid her hand on Baldy's collar to draw
him in also, but the boy exclaimed quickly, "No, ma'am, don't do that,
please; he ain't really cross, but he won't ride in anythin' as long's
he's got a leg to stand on; an' sometimes he growls if people he don't
know touches him."

"Dogs and boys never growl at me, because I love them; and he does not
look as if he really had a leg to stand on," she replied smilingly. But
the boy nervously persisted. "Please let him go--his legs is all right.
He looks kind o' run down jest now 'cause he"--the boy felt a tightening
at his throat, and winked hard to keep the tears from starting
again--"'cause he ain't got much appetite. But when he's eatin' good his
legs is jest great. Why, there ain't no other dog in Golconda that's got
as strong legs as Baldy when he's--when he's eatin' good," he repeated
hastily. "An' Golconda's plumb full o' fine dogs."