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 were not racing now. They were trotting heavily along. The strained dogs' tongues were out. Their tails drooped, while the men ran as though they could hardly move one leg after the other. But there was one thing which gave Richard hope. He had run ten miles more on the home stretch than had the Scotchman. Truly his youth was telling.

At the sound of the cannon the Scotchman flung his whip into his straining team, and with voice and whip lifted them a hundred feet ahead of Henderson's Huskies. The spectators cheered themselves hoarse as they saw him take the lead, and several teams dashed back to the city to tell the waiting crowd that the Scotchman was going to win. He was running away from the "chechahco" and his Huskies, but they had counted their chickens too soon. For, while the Henderson team was being driven by a greenhorn, yet he was a wonderful "chechahco." But, best of all, he had the greatest lead dog in Alaska urging on his