young policeman was badly exhausted. Still, the dogged obstinacy of his
race held him to the pace he had set, and would hold him till he
dropped in his tracks.

'When did Westondale pull out?' he asked. 'He stopped here, didn't he?'
This was supererogatory, for the tracks told their own tale too well.

Malemute Kid had caught Belden's eye, and he, scenting the wind,
replied evasively, 'A right peart while back.' 'Come, my man; speak
up,' the policeman admonished.

'Yeh seem to want him right smart. Hez he ben gittin' cantankerous down
Dawson way?'

'Held up Harry McFarland's for forty thousand; exchanged it at the P.C.
store for a check on Seattle; and who's to stop the cashing of it if we
don't overtake him? When did he pull out?'

Every eye suppressed its excitement, for Malemute Kid had given the
cue, and the young officer encountered wooden faces on every hand.

Striding over to Prince, he put the question to him. Though it hurt
him, gazing into the frank, earnest face of his fellow countryman, he
replied inconsequentially on the state of the trail.

Then he espied Father Roubeau, who could not lie. 'A quarter of an hour
ago,' the priest answered; 'but he had four hours' rest for himself and
dogs.' 'Fifteen minutes' start, and he's fresh! My God!' The poor
fellow staggered back, half fainting from exhaustion and
disappointment, murmuring something about the run from Dawson in ten
hours and the dogs being played out.

Malemute Kid forced a mug of punch upon him; then he turned for the
door, ordering the dog drivers to follow. But the warmth and promise of
rest were too tempting, and they objected strenuously. The Kid was
conversant with their French patois, and followed it anxiously.

They swore that the dogs were gone up; that Siwash and Babette would
have to be shot before the first mile was covered; that the rest were
almost as bad; and that it would be better for all hands to rest up.

'Lend me five dogs?' he asked, turning to Malemute Kid.

But the Kid shook his head.

'I'll sign a check on Captain Constantine for five thousand--here's my
papers--I'm authorized to draw at my own discretion.'

Again the silent refusal.

'Then I'll requisition them in the name of the Queen.' Smiling
incredulously, the Kid glanced at his well-stocked arsenal, and the
Englishman, realizing his impotency, turned for the door. But the dog
drivers still objecting, he whirled upon them fiercely, calling them
women and