down to the end of this street and hang a left, you should see the church. Make a right at the church and you should see it at the end of the road.”

“Thank you so much,” Lucile said happily.

“Oh no problem at all; after all, you’re not the first.”

She and Lucile shared a laugh and then the lady, with children in tow, crossed the street and disappeared into the general store across the way. Lucile and Rosy began in a quickened pace down the remaining stretch of the street.

 The morning so far had passed like any other for the sled team, save Mr. Hilok forgetting about the snow hook, with the almost mechanical precision between man and his dogs. From the time they were old enough to toil, excluding Balto who was added two years ago, the team had not gone a winter month and not used this trail. And by now the trail between Juneau and Nome had been run so many times by Balto and his six team mates that it seemed almost lie second nature to them. They knew every turn, every hazardous area, right down to the rocks beneath the snow under their pads. This was their trail, the very heart of their lives.

Balto was positioned in lead, followed by a slender grey female named Schio that ran the left swing; the large black and white malamute named Cleft ran the right. Two twins with tan backs and grey bellies ran the lines in the middle, and finally came a crème colored red male named Kay’yak ran the left wheel, accompanied by a timid grey husky with a brown spot on his back named Harv that ran the right. They went perfectly with their positions, not a one dissatisfied or mutinous.

They had by now put at least fifteen miles between them and their previous camp and by the way they were traveling, they were looking into putting in another forty-five by the time this day was done; thus putting them at the half way point. Half way home meant half way to a nice warm boiler room where the seven could rest their sore muscles and spend the day catching up on much needed slumber. But for Balto, half way home also meant yet another 550 miles between him and his mate. It was all he could do to try not to think about her and the pups she carried, and keep his focus on the trail ahead.

There was a patch where the snow had melted away, revealing the loose rock that lined the whole trail. Wouldn’t it fit perfectly with Mr. Hilok’s snow hook that Balto hit said patch of rock and lost his footing. He rolled and cried out as he hit the ground and was immediately buried by his team. Balto cursed under his breath and the team carefully scrambled to let him up. Mr. Hilok had jumped from the sled and was now helping in the process, unclipping harnesses and dragging dogs by the line then tying them to a tree. The last dog rose from the fallen leader and gazed apologetically down upon him. Balto wined and put his paws under him. As he made an attempt to rise, he cried out and fell back to his side.

Mr. Hilok had just tied one of the twins to a tree when he heard his dog cry out and immediately ran to his side. There Balto laid breathing heavily with his face twisted in pain. Mr. Hilok placed a hand on his leader’s hip and immediately received a sharp yelp that was in reality, a very foul curse. Mr. Hilok mumbled a curse under his breath and shook his head. The team sat where they were tied or where they stood freely in a heavy silence. Mr. Hilok placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself up onto his feet where he stood for a few moments and gazed sadly down at Balto.

Not a word was spoken now. Not Mr. Hilok, nor the team dared utter a sound. Mr. Hilok moved to the sled and began arranging it so that Balto could lay down in it with some form of comfort. The box containing the metal was pushed all the way to the front and the tent along with all of the other camping equipment was stacked neatly on top. The bucket containing the food was placed at the foot of the box so that it was where Mr. Hilok could keep an eye on it. Mr. Hilok then produced his own blanket and spread it out in the space that was now cleared of any obstruction.

Mr. Hilok quickly finished his work then moved over to where Balto still lay. As gently as this large man was capable of, Mr. Hilok slid his hands underneath Balto’s body. Slowly Mr. Hilok began to lift Balto from the ground and received an onslaught of pained yelps. Once the hybrid was settled into his arms, Mr. Hilok carried Balto to the sled and gingerly placed him down on the blanket. This broke Balto’s heart. He would rather die than be taken out of his traces. Mustering up all of his strength, he again tried to rise. A sudden pop and shooting pain sent him down onto the sled once again. He knew now, and no matter how much it hurt, he was finished.

Chapter 3

WARNING: INTENSE SEQUENCE OF VIOLENCE

35 MILES OUTSIDE OF NOME

The sled bounced along in a quickened pace. It was unknown to Mr. Hilok as to exactly how his dogs knew that they were nearing home, for the trail here looked no different than it did twenty miles ago; but every time they reached a certain spot on the trail the dogs would become excited and fly along as if they were wolves running freely. Balto on the other hand was too upset and in too much pain to be excited about anything. He merely lay on the blanket in the sled curled up into the most comfortable position that his hip would allow. He felt so guilty; for three days now his team had been working hard in their traces, Cleft pulling the lead, while he sat there on the sled with nothing to do but sleep. But sleep was the last thing Balto wanted to do. His team was up at the crack of dawn, but he was up earlier, they kept awake on the trail and so did he; though sleep was a very tempting siren when the sled just eased along the snow.

It was now the fourth day on the return trail and the warmest out of any of the seven they had put in going to Juneau and now coming home, and the warmth had taken its toll on the snow. The dogs kept atop, but eventually the sled punched through and ground upon the rocks under the snow, thus making them have to slow down. Eventually, with just twenty miles left to go, Mr. Hilok stopped the team all together. He had to get the sled back on top of the snow or the sled would be torn apart. He stomped the snow hook solidly into place and moved deliberately over to the side of the trail. He found what he sought and knelt down to pick it up. The dogs all looked on curiously as he carried with him two stout tree limbs and wedged one under each runner. Satisfied with his work, he moved to the back of the sled and slid out his hatchet. He shifted it from his left hand to his right and walked over to the side of the trail once again where he fell a small spruce. He then chopped the little branches off and carried them to the sled, dropping them in a pile.

It took him an hour to do, but he knew that more time would have been wasted had he not done what he did. The sled runners now sported a pair of makeshift snowshoes made from the branches sacrificed by the spruce. Mr. Hilok removed the anchor and retook his position on the sled. With the loud call of hike ringing in their ears, the dogs started back up with the sled gliding easily atop the snow.

The plane circled in low to land, slowing down its speed with each pass it made over the town. After a few more minutes of this redundant action, the sled-like runners of the plane finally contacted the thin layer of snow, sending it spraying out in a brilliant cascade of white. The plane coaxed until it came to a stop near the edge of town. The pilot shut off the engines and turned back to the three passengers, giving them a three fingered o.k. sign with his gloved hand. The pilot stood up and stepped over the cockpit and down onto the wing. His boots thudded down the width of the wing until he came to the seats in which his three passengers sat. The three stood up and he picked up the little girl first, setting her next to him on the wing. Next he offered his gloved hand out to the middle aged woman on board. She took his hand into her own and he politely helped her down onto the wing. The final passenger was a middle aged man, husband of the woman and father of the little girl. He used his unusually long legs to step effortlessly out onto the wing. The pilot jumped down to the ground and the husband handed him the little girl. The pilot gently lifted her from the wing and placed her on the ground. The pilot then reached up and placed his hands around the woman’s hips and lifted her down to earth. The husband simply jumped down. The pilot then opened up the cargo hold on the side of the plane and took out the husband’s bags, placing them neatly down on the ground. He then turned and faced the family of three and the husband offered out his hand. The pilot shook it firmly and the husband spoke.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Greenfield,” he said appreciatively.

The pilot smiled and the two released their grip on each other’s hand. The husband dipped his had into his pocket and pulled out his moose skin wallet.

“So how much do we owe you Mr. Greenfield,” the husband asked.

“Well, John, the normal cost of a flight from Nenena to Nome is two hundred dollars.”

The husband named John opened up his wallet and started counting up the bills. Mr. Greenfield smiled.

“But today, I think I’ll give you a fifty percent discount.”

John frowned.

“You sure,” he asked with the money held in his hand, “It’s no trouble.”

John handed Mr. Greenfield the amount it would cost him. Mr. Greenfield smiled and counted out one hundred dollars and handed the rest back to John.

“Keep this and treat your family to some dinner and fun,” Mr.