With increasing discomfort for both team and driver another week dragged by. Ginger and Whirlwind had both gone lame and were little more than figureheads in the team. It is a fact that usually southland dogs cannot stand such terrific strain as can the northland Huskies. But François did not look after their feet or seek to recuperate them. He simply whipped and cursed them in all the strange cuss words of his picturesque patois.
Just two weeks from the morning on which they started, while François was trying desperately to get this snarling, fighting, discordant team in harness, Ginger suddenly went mad. He gave no evidence of what was about to happen.
But without the slightest warning he rushed headlong at Wolf. He snapped blindly this way and that and his jaws dripped froth. Wolf at once recognized the dangerous malady and fled for his life. So Ginger turned upon Silversheene and narrowly missed biting him.
