6 New Trials

CHAPTER 6 New Trials After a few days, the celebrations ended, and everyone got back to business. Official orders came, calling Francois and Perrault to new places, and they had to leave their team. Francois called Buck to him, threw his arms around him, and cried over him. That was the last time Buck saw Francois and Perrault. Like other men, they passed out of Buck's life for good. A Scottish man took charge of Buck and his teammates, and along with a dozen other dog teams, he started back over the trail to

Dawson. There was no light running now, no trying for a record time, only hard work each day, with a heavy load in the sled. This was the mail train that carried letters to the men who looked for gold. Buck did not like it, but he could do the work and took pride in it the same way Dave and Solleks did. And Buck made sure that his teammates, whether or not they also took pride in it, did their fair share of work. It was a boring life, and one day was very much like another. At a certain time each morning the cooks woke up, built the fires, and cooked breakfast. Then, while some men packed up the camp, others harnessed the dogs, and they were on their way an hour or so before dawn. At night, they made camp again. Some men made fires, others cut firewood, and still others carried water or ice for the cooks. Also, the dogs were fed. To the dogs, this was the most interesting part of the day, but

it was also good to loaf around after the fish was eaten for an hour or so with the other dogs. There were dozens of them. There were fierce fighters among them, but after three fights with the fiercest dogs, Buck became an unbeatable fighter. When he bristled and showed his teeth, all the dogs got out of his way. Perhaps best of all, Buck loved to lie near the fire, hind legs crouched under him, forelegs stretched out in front, raised, and eyes blinking dreamily at the flames. Sometimes he thought of Judge Miller's big house in the sunny Santa Clara Valley, and of the cement swimming tank, and Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, and Toots, the Japanese pug. But more often he remembered the man in the red sweater, Curly being hurt, the great fight with Spitz, and the good things he had eaten or would like to eat. He was not homesick. The South was far away, and

memories of it did not affect him. More important were the instincts he felt. They made things he had never seen seem familiar. It was a hard trip, with all the mail in the sled, and the work wore all the dogs down. They were weak when they arrived in Dawson, and should have had at least a week or ten days to rest. But after only two days they started down the Yukon River loaded with letters again. The dogs were tired, the drivers grumbling, and to make things worse, it snowed every day. This made the trail soft, so the sled could not slide as easily, which meant even heavier pulling for the dogs. Although it was hard, the drivers were fair through it all, and they did their best for the animals. Each night the dogs were looked after first. They ate before the drivers ate, and no man set up his sleeping bag until he had looked after the feet of the dogs he drove. Still, their

strength went down. Since the beginning of winter they had traveled eighteen hundred miles, dragging sleds the whole distance, and eighteen hundred miles will wear down even the toughest dogs. Buck kept at it, keeping his teammates up to their work and working together, even though he was also very tired. Billee cried and whimpered in his sleep each night. Joe was meaner than ever, and Solleks was unapproachable from any side. But of all the dogs in the team, it was Dave who suffered most. Something had gone wrong with him. He became more unhappy and angry, and as soon as camp was set up, he would dig his sleeping hole, where his driver fed him. Once out of the harness and lying down, he did not get up again until harness time in the morning. Sometimes, in the harness, when he pulled hard he would cry out in pain. The driver examined him, but could find nothing wrong.

By the time they reached Cassiar Bar, Dave was so weak that he was falling down in the harness. The Scottish driver stopped the dogs and took Dave out of the team. He wanted to rest Dave and let him run free behind the sled. Sick as he was, Dave did not like being taken out. He grunted and growled while the harness was taken off, and he whimpered sadly when he saw Sol-leks in the position he had held for so long. Dave felt proud of his work, and even though he was sick he could not stand to see another dog do his work.