f Von Schroeder's sled, and in this order the three sleds
dashed out on the smooth going below a jam, where many men and many dogs
waited. Dawson was fifteen miles away.

Von Schroeder, with his ten-mile relays, had changed five miles back and
would change five miles ahead. So he held on, keeping his dogs at full
leap. Big Olaf and Smoke made flying changes, and their fresh teams
immediately regained what had been lost to the Baron. Big Olaf led past,
and Smoke followed into the narrow trail beyond.

"Still good, but not so good," Smoke paraphrased Spencer to himself.

Of Von Schroeder, now behind, he had no fear; but ahead was the greatest
dog-driver in the country. To pass him seemed impossible. Again and
again, many times, Smoke forced his leader to the other's sled-tail, and
each time Big Olaf let out another link and drew away. Smoke contented
himself with taking the pace, and hung on grimly. The race was not
lost until one or the other won, and in fifteen miles many things could
happen.

Three miles from Dawson something did happen. To Smoke's surprise, Big
Olaf rose up and with oaths and leather proceeded to fetch out the last
ounce of effort in his animals. It was a spurt that should have been
reserved for the last hundred yards instead of being begun three miles
from the finish. Sheer dog-killing that it was, Smoke followed. His own
team was superb. No dogs on the Yukon had had harder work or were in
better condition. Besides, Smoke had toiled with them, and eaten and
bedded with them, and he knew each dog as an individual and how best to
win in to the animal's intelligence and extract its last least shred of
willingness.

They topped a small jam and struck the smooth going below. Big Olaf
was barely fifty feet ahead. A sled shot out from the side and drew in
toward him, and Smoke understood Big Olaf's terrific spurt. He had tried
to gain a lead for the change. This fresh team that waited to jerk him
down the home stretch had been a private surprise of his. Even the men
who had backed him to win had had no knowledge of it.

Smoke strove desperately to pass during the exchange of sleds. Lifting
his dogs to the effort, he ate up the intervening fifty feet. With
urging and pouring of leather, he went to the side and on until his
lead-dog was jumping abreast of Big Olaf's wheeler. On the other side,
abreast, was the relay sled. At the speed they were going, Big Olaf did
not dare try the flying leap. If he mis