he drivers will be men who know the game." Which meant a
severe struggle; for strength and speed in the dogs, and real
generalship and a masterly comprehension of all phases of the trail, in
the driver, are the chief requisites in this wonderful contest.

"They're in great form," observed the Woman with pride and admiration.
"I don't think I have ever seen them looking better."

"True," agreed "Scotty." "But don't count too much on that, for the year
we had that strange epidemic in the Kennel, something like distemper,
they seemed perfectly well till almost the day of the race. And that was
the race," grimly, "when the dear little Fuzzy-wuzzy Lap Dogs, as you
call them, made the record time, and we came in third."

"Well," ruefully, "they had a true Siberian trail all the way; it was
clear and cold, and there was not a single blizzard. And the whole North
knows that our rangy half-breeds are at their best when there are
storms, and the route is rough and broken. The luck of the trail,"
sighing, "but at that, they were marvels."

Without cavil, and with due praise from friend and antagonist alike, the
success of the Siberians that year had been phenomenal and well
deserved. And so, when the "Iron Man" John Johnson, driving a team
entered by Colonel Charles Ramsay of London, and Fox Ramsay driving his
own team of the same type, were first and second, the Ramsay Tartan
fluttered beside the flag of Finland in triumph. It made no difference
that one driver was the son of a Scotch Earl and one of a Scandinavian
Peasant--they were both men in the eyes of all Alaska; and they were
both, with their sturdy dogs, saluted as victors in this classic of the
snows. And John Johnson's record of four hundred and eight miles in
seventy-four hours, fourteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds had made
history in the North.

[Illustration: The Ramsay Siberians]

"I did not feel half so bad, did you, 'Scotty,' when Fay Dalzene beat us
with that great team of his and Russ Bowen's? For after all they were
our type of dog, and justified our faith in the Alaskans."

But no one year's result, nor the accumulated result of several years,
could settle the question of supremacy between the two breeds; and so
the smouldering rivalry continued and was fanned into a hot flame each
season just before the Solomon Derby.

"You'll have a lot of able rivals, if the immense number of speedy teams
I see in the streets means anything," was the Big Man's