But
Harrington did not slacken. Watching his chance when the new sled swung
in close, he leaped across, shouting as he did so and jumping up the pace
of his fresh dogs. The other driver fell off somehow. Savoy did
likewise with his relay, and the abandoned teams, swerving to right and
left, collided with the others and piled the ice with confusion.
Harrington cut out the pace; Savoy hung on. As they neared the end of
the glare ice, they swept abreast of the leading sled. When they shot
into the narrow trail between the soft snowbanks, they led the race; and
Dawson, watching by the light of the aurora, swore that it was neatly
done.
When the frost grows lusty at sixty below, men cannot long remain without
fire or excessive exercise, and live. So Harrington and Savoy now fell
to the ancient custom of "ride and run." Leaping from their sleds, tow-
thongs in hand, they ran behind till the blood resumed its wonted
channels and expelled the frost, then back to the sleds till the heat
again ebbed away. Thus, riding and running, they covered the second and
third relays. Several times, on smooth ice, Savoy spurted his dogs, and
as often failed to gain past.
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