The Alaskan Adventure (2 page)

Joe said, “That seems like a pretty strict rule.”

“I know,” David said. “But it all goes back to 1925, when there was an epidemic of diphtheria in Nome and the town ran out of medicine. There wasn't a road, and airplanes couldn't get through, either. But some of the best dogsled mushers in Alaska carried the medicine from Anchorage to Nome, through blizzards and all, and got there in time to save the town. The Iditarod is like a memorial to them.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Frank said. “When you were staying with us, we took you to Central Park, in New York City, because you wanted to see a statue of a sled dog.”

David smiled. “That's right,” he said. “That was Balto, a lead dog who was one of the heroes of the rescue of Nome.”

He bent down to pet Ironheart again. “And
my
lead dog is just as great as Balto, aren't you, fellow? We're going to win the Iditarod and take home the fifty-thousand-dollar prize.”

Joe blew out a frosty whistle. “Fifty thousand dollars? Sign me up—I'll pull the sled myself!”

“You wouldn't get very far without a dog team,” David said, laughing. “And the competition's pretty fierce.”

As the three were walking back into town, Joe saw a young man about their age. Like David, he was dressed in wool pants and a fur parka, but he had the hood up and his head down, as if he didn't want to be noticed.

“That's Gregg Anderson,” David said. He called out, “Hey, Gregg, come say hello to my friends from back east.”

Gregg stopped but didn't speak.

“Gregg's running the Iditarod, too,” David continued. “It's the first time for both of us. The town's pretty excited about us two.”

Gregg glared at him. “You think you and your team are pretty good, don't you?” he said. “I know you've beat me a few times. But I'll tell you one thing. Maybe I won't win the Iditarod this time. But neither will you. I'm going to finish way ahead of you. Nothing's going to stop me. I swear it.”

Tight-lipped and scowling, Gregg pushed past Frank and walked quickly up the path. Frank watched him for a few moments, then turned to David. “What's that guy's problem?” he asked. “Is he always like that?”

David shrugged. “Sort of. We used to be friends when we were little, but not anymore. I guess it burns him that my dog team usually beats his.”

Joe pushed David lightly on the shoulder. “Maybe you're just a better musher.”

David playfully shoved him back. “Hey,” he said, “you're learning the language.”

The path they were on took them past an open yard that contained a big stack of fifty-five-gallon
metal drums and a small shack. Frank heard a mechanical hum coming from the shack and asked David about it.

“That's the town generator,” David explained. “The diesel oil to power it is brought in by barge during the summer, before the Yukon ices over. That means we have to be careful about how we use electricity. If the oil runs low before the spring thaw, we're out of luck.”

Frank glanced around. He'd never really thought about how isolated David's town was. As long as nothing went wrong, life was probably as secure here as anywhere. But even the smallest emergency could be enough to push the town to the brink of disaster.

As they walked on, Frank found himself thinking about Gregg and his determination to finish ahead of David in the Iditarod. You needed to look out for somebody with that kind of intensity.

“David?” Frank said. “Has that guy Gregg ever given you any trouble?”

David looked over his shoulder and said, “Not really. His bark's worse than his bite.”

Joe grinned. “Maybe that's a good thing for a dogsled driver,” he cracked.

David grinned back. “Gregg wants to be first in everything,” he said. “But life's not like that.”

“Has he ever beaten you in a race?” Frank asked.

“He's come pretty close,” David replied.

“Yeah, but close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” Joe said, quoting one of her father's favorite sayings.

They all laughed. But Frank knew that the bigger the race, the bigger the temptation. And the Iditarod was the biggest dogsled race of all. Not only that, everybody in Glitter must be rooting for one or the other of the two hometown mushers. That could put an enormous amount of pressure on a guy like Gregg. Enough pressure to make him try something underhanded against his rival, David?

As they turned onto another dirt road, Frank saw a tall man in a green parka and green twill pants coming toward them.

“Oh, there's Curt Stone. He's the guy from the company,” David told them.

“What company?” Frank asked, noticing the confident way the man walked.

“ThemeLife—the company I told you about, which wants to turn Glitter into a theme park,” David replied. “He's been coming here all winter, talking to people and trying to convince them to vote for the plan.”

Stone walked up to them with a smile. “Hello,
David,” he said. “And these must be your friends from New York.”

“That's right, Mr. Stone,” David said.

The man shook his head. “Just call me Curt, David,” he said.

David introduced Frank and Joe. “They're here to visit and to help me get ready for the Iditarod,” he explained.

“So I heard.” Curt gave Frank and Joe a friendly smile and said, “Welcome to Alaska. One thing you fellows will have to get used to—this may be a big country, but news travels faster here than anywhere I've ever been. I hope you have a good stay. You can count on David to take good care of you.” He walked away.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Joe remarked as the three continued on their way. “This project must be pretty important for him to spend so much time in your town.”

David nodded. “I guess so,” he said. “Or maybe he just likes it here. Why shouldn't he?
I
do.”

Frank saw the cabin where he and Joe would be staying up ahead. He didn't yet have a good mental map of the area, but with the river along one side and the forest on the other three sides, getting oriented would be pretty easy.

“Oh,” David said, sounding disappointed. “The curtains are still closed at Aunt Mona and
Uncle Peter's. I was sure they'd be back by now. I wanted you to meet them. Oh, well—later for that. Hey, are you guys tired? Do you need to take a rest or anything?”

Frank glanced over at Joe, then said, “No, we're fine. But if there's something you've got to do . . . ”

“It's not that,” David said. “I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go for a ride.”

“You mean, with the dogs?” Joe asked eagerly.

David nodded.

“Believe it!” Joe said. “When?”

“How about right now?”

“You're on!” cried Joe. The walk back to the huskies seemed to take much less time. Once there, Frank and Joe helped David carry a sturdy oak sled from a storage shed. They set it on a flat piece of ground next to the trail.

“It's so long,” Joe said, sounding surprised.

“That's to hold supplies,” David explained, “and it's long enough to sleep on, too, when you're on the trail.”

He started laying out a long series of connected harnesses. The huskies began barking eagerly and leaping up, then falling back as they reached the end of the ropes that kept them close to their houses.

“You want to help hitch them up?” David asked. “Here, we'll bring them to the sled one by
one, in order. The ones closest to the sled are called the wheel dogs. We'll take them over first.”

David grabbed one of the huskies, untied him, and led him to the slot just in front of the sled. The dog stood quietly while David put the padded harness around his powerful chest.

“You have to let them know you're in charge,” David said. “Once they know you mean business, they're fine. Joe, why don't you bring Big Foot over? And Frank, you can fetch Gray Dawn.”

Frank and Joe went over to the dogs David pointed out, took them by the collars, and led them to the sled, where David harnessed them. Soon it was the turn of Ironheart, the lead dog. Frank scanned the rig and estimated at least forty feet between Ironheart and the front of the sled. Dogsledding needed a lot of room.

By now the team of huskies had turned into a powerhouse of energy and enthusiasm. Tails wagging, the eager dogs jumped up against the harnesses, ready to get moving. This was what they lived for. This was what they loved.

“They need a good run,” David said. “You two will take the place of the weight of the supplies.”

Joe sat in the seat, while Frank squeezed in front of Joe. David stood at the rear of the sled, next to the runners.

“What, no steering wheel?” Joe called out. “No accelerator?”

“No seat belt or airbag?” Frank added.

They all laughed.

Ironheart looked over his shoulder at his master and panted. It looked to Frank as if the husky, too, was enjoying the joke.

“Here we go,” David said. “Hike! Hike!” he shouted at the dogs.

The huskies dug their feet into the packed snow of the trail and lunged forward. The sled was soon bouncing along a rutted path toward the river. Frank and Joe were so startled at the sudden speed of the team that neither of them said a word.

“Hike! Hike!” David called again.

Frank glanced back at him. David had his left foot resting on the runner. With his right he kicked at the trail to help push the team along.

Frank fastened the neck tab on his parka and pulled the hood tighter around his ears. The icy wind had already numbed his nose and cheeks. The path plunged down the riverbank and onto the ice. For a moment the sled felt as if it had become airborne. Frank grabbed the sides of the sled.

Behind him Joe shouted, “Waa-hoo!”

As the dogs felt the sled move onto the slicker
surface of the river ice, they picked up the pace. “Hold on!” David shouted.

The white expanses of snow and ice glittered blindingly in the winter sunlight. Frank narrowed his eyes to slits and looked around. The wild silence of unending Alaska surrounded them. Nothing broke the stillness but the steady high-pitched hissing of the sled runners on the ice.

Just ahead the trail branched. “Gee!” David called out to Ironheart. “Gee!”

Ironheart led the team to the right.

Frank turned halfway around and asked, “What do you say for left?”

“Haw,” David replied. “That's one of the first things a sled dog has to learn.”

“This is
so cool!
” Joe exclaimed.

“Yeah,” David answered. “About twenty degrees below zero.”

They laughed as the team continued angling diagonally across the Yukon. The trail looked well worn. Frank wondered if this was where David did most of his training for the Iditarod. But there must be other mushers in town, too, who used the same dogsled trails to collect firewood from across the river or to do other errands. The Yukon really was a highway, winter and summer alike.

“We've got company,” David said.

Frank and Joe looked around.

“Off to the left,” David added. “It's Gregg.”

Frank craned his neck and saw another dog team moving along the river, on a trail closer to the bank. “Is he trying to race you?” he asked.

“No, just out giving his team a run,” David told him.

“Funny coincidence that he's doing it right now,” Joe said. “He's moving pretty fast, isn't he?”

David looked over again, then said, “I don't think he's carrying a load. That's not the way I train-a team, but I guess he has his own ideas.”

Frank twisted to get a better look at Gregg and his dogs. As he did, something else caught his eye. “David?” he called. “What's that smoke in the town?”

David looked over his shoulder. “Whoa!” he shouted. “Whoa!” The sled lurched as he jammed his foot on the blade brake, which dug into the snow-packed trail.

Ironheart and the rest of the team stopped.

“Something's wrong,” David said as he studied the column of black smoke rising from the edge of town.

“What is it?” Joe said.

“We'd better get back fast,” David said. “That looks to me like Uncle Peter's cabin.”

David ran toward the head of the dog team. As he passed the sled, he yelled, “Come on! Lift the sled. I'm going to turn the team around.”

Frank and Joe climbed out on either side of the sled and followed David as he ran.

David grabbed Ironheart's harness and led him around in a wide circle over the rough ice. The team followed, then stopped. Frank and Joe hoisted the sled into the air and carefully maneuvered it in a half turn that left it facing back toward Glitter.

As the Hardys were clambering back into their places on the sled, David grabbed the handhold
and started to push. “Ironheart!” he shouted. “Hike! Hike!”

Ironheart leaned into the straps around his muscular chest and dug his paws into the trail. The rest of the team did the same. They surged forward.

Downriver the smoke from the Windman cabin smeared the sky with an ugly black blotch.

David pushed the team to full speed. “Pull, Ironheart! Pull! Pull!”

Ironheart strained against the harness. He and the other dogs seemed as aware of the emergency as David and the Hardys.

“What do you think happened?” Frank asked.

“I don't know,” David replied. “It could be anything. But fire is about the worst thing that can happen. The whole town is made of wood.”

Frank noticed Gregg across the ice, still mushing his team away from town. “We should tell him about the fire,” he said, pointing.

“He won't hear us,” David said. “Wait until we get closer.”

They raced along the slick ice trail, skimming over the frozen river. When they had shortened the distance, David shouted, “Gregg!”