e over the boundaries of the
claim again and again, for the race with the dogs was to be preceded
by a foot and obstacle race. Each man had to relocate the claim for
himself, and this meant that he must place two center-stakes and four
corner-stakes and cross the creek twice, before he could start for
Dawson with his dogs.

Furthermore, there were to be no "sooners." Not until the stroke of
midnight of Friday night was the claim open for relocation, and not
until the stroke of midnight could a man plant a stake. This was the
ruling of the Gold Commissioner at Dawson, and Captain Consadine had
sent up a squad of mounted police to enforce it. Discussion had arisen
about the difference between sun-time and police-time, but Consadine had
sent forth his fiat that police-time went, and, further, that it was the
watch of Lieutenant Pollock that went.

The Mono trail ran along the level creek-bed, and, less than two feet
in width, was like a groove, walled on either side by the snowfall of
months. The problem of how forty-odd sleds and three hundred dogs were
to start in so narrow a course was in everybody's mind.

"Huh!" said Shorty. "It's goin' to be the gosh-dangdest mix-up that ever
was. I can't see no way out, Smoke, except main strength an' sweat an'
to plow through. If the whole creek was glare-ice they ain't room for a
dozen teams abreast. I got a hunch right now they's goin' to be a heap
of scrappin' before they get strung out. An' if any of it comes our way,
you got to let me do the punchin'."

Smoke squared his shoulders and laughed non-committally.

"No, you don't!" his partner cried in alarm. "No matter what happens,
you don't dast hit. You can't handle dogs a hundred miles with a busted
knuckle, an' that's what'll happen if you land on somebody's jaw."

Smoke nodded his head. "You're right, Shorty. I couldn't risk the
chance."

"An' just remember," Shorty went on, "that I got to do all the shovin'
for them first ten miles, an' you got to take it easy as you can. I'll
sure jerk you through to the Yukon. After that it's up to you an' the
dogs. Say--what d'ye think Schroeder's scheme is? He's got his first
team a quarter of a mile down the creek, an' he'll know it by a green
lantern. But we got him skinned. Me for the red flare every time."

The day had been clear and cold, but a blanket of cloud formed across
the face of the sky, and the night came on warm and dark, with the hint
of snow impending. The th