I never have
a moment for them in summer, as it is our busy season in the office,"
and Allan, who was Secretary in the Big Man's Company, gave a sigh as he
realized that not until autumn would come again the happy Dog Days.

To Baldy it was a period of perfect joy--to be with Ben Edwards and
Moose Jones in the glorious freedom of the open country in the far
hills. Here the dogs did what their fancies dictated. They swam,
unmolested, in the ditch; ran for miles with their chum, the dappled
gray horse; gave chase to saucy, chattering squirrels, and even fished
so successfully that they were the admiration of all the camps about.

Irish and Baldy would stand in the riffles of a stream, and Rover,
leaping into the pools and quiet waters, would drive the fish up into
the shallows, where they were seized by his two companions, taken ashore
and dropped on the bank. Then they returned for more, keeping up the
sport till a bird in flight or some other fascinating moving creature
lured them away in a spirited pursuit through thick willows and across
green marsh-lands.

At night they slept, if they chose, in the Bunk House; and ate without
restriction such mysterious delicacies as cake and pastries.

No longer was Baldy ignored by the men, nor did it now take the threats
of Moose Jones to prevent the petty annoyances to which he had been
subjected formerly; for in winning the Solomon Derby he had proved his
worth and they were glad to give him well-earned praise.

Occasionally there would be a dissenter from the general admiration of
the dog. Black Mart, who sometimes came over from the Midas, never
failed to belittle the record he had made. "It's no test, that short
mush t' Solomon, an' it don't prove nothin'. Why, I've seen teams that
could do wonders in that there run that couldn't git as fur as Council
in the Big Race without goin' t' pieces. It takes somethin' more'n a
slinkin' half-breed like him t' lead a winnin' team in the Sweepstakes."

And Moose would retort sarcastically, "Mart, ef you was as good a judge
o' dogs as dogs is o' you--stop growlin' at him, Baldy--you'd have a
winnin' team in yourself, instead o' just jawin' about it."

One man's enmity mattered but little, however, in the general
friendliness Baldy experienced; and there were so many glorious things
to offset those infrequent encounters with the one person he
instinctively regarded with aversion.

Encouraging news had come from Dime Creek, and Go