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Page 66
XXX
REAL LEADERSHIP
The thrifty Jean was far from pleased when, on the morning after his
lucky moose-shot, he found that the sled-team was short of one dog. As
it happened, Jake was the first to note the absence of Bill, the
ex-leader; and while he looked this way and that for the missing dog,
Jean, by a thought process which went a little farther, called Jan to
him and proceeded to look over the big hound.
"You don't need to look for no Beel," he said, grimly, to Jake. "Look
thees Jan, here. By gar! that was some fight, now I'm telling you. See
that, an' thees. Look that ear. See thees shoulder. By gar! that Beel he
fight good an' hard. But when he fight Jan, tha's the feenish--for
Beel."
Jake and Jean together made the best job they could of patching up Jan's
wounds a little against the frost and the rub of trace and breast-band.
"Good dog, too, that blame Bill," mused Jake.
"Sure, he was good dog, very good dog; by gar! yes," agreed Jean. "But
thees Jan, hee's best of all dogs. No good for Beel to fight heem. Only
he was too blame full o' moose-meat, he don' lose no blood to Beel, you
bet. That why Beel he don' eat las' night. Seeck? No. He too cunning,
that Beel." A long pause, while Jean spat out chewed tobacco and juice
over one of Jan's worst wounds, with a view to its antiseptic and
healing properties. And then, on a grunting sigh: "Ah, well, I reckon
that makes Jan's price five hunderd. That blame Beel, he worth two
hunderd any day."
So, by Jean's simple commercial method, the big hound's wounds and the
previous night's great fight were best summed up by reckoning that they
added two hundred dollars to Jan's market price. And, all things
considered, he was very likely right; for there could be no sort of
doubt about it, the episode had taught Jan lessons he never would
forget; it had advanced his education hugely and added a big slice to
the sum of his knowledge of the wild northland life. Therefore it had
made him the more fit to survive in the north; and hence it must have
added to his value.
Dogs may not do much talking one with another, as humans understand
talk; but their methods of intercourse suffice them. Just as Jean saw no
need to hunt for the missing Bill, once he had looked over Jan's wounds,
so every dog in the team knew perfectly well why Bill was not of their
number that morning. They asked no questions; but they knew. The thing
was indelibly recorded in their minds. Bill, who had mastered them, had
disputed Jan's mastery. And now Bill was no more. They would not forget.
But all the same, their deductive powers were far from perfect. They saw
in Jan a leader who could not hide the soreness and stiffness caused by
his many wounds. They, for their part, were feeling rather like
indiscreet workmen after a public holiday that has been too recklessly
enjoyed. They had no headache, but were feeling fat and lazy; and,
noting the stiffness of Jan's movements, they slouched and shirked, and
caused delays over the making of a start that morning.
"H'm! Too much moose-meat. Thees will be a short day," growled Jean, as
he reached out for his whip before proceeding farther with the
harnessing. Only the stiff-legged leader was in his place; the rest lay
dotted about with lolling tongues, bent on loafing.
Jan saw Jean go for his whip. But it was no fear of the lash that moved
him to action. He had been desperately conscious for a good many hours
of his stiffness and weariness, and had hoped his services as policeman
of the team would not have been needed that morning. Now, in a flash, he
comprehended the true position. And he knew the sled was now twice its
previous weight. He looked across at Jean, and gave a short, low bark,
which meant:
"Don't you trouble about your whip. This is my job. Don't suppose I've
forgotten it, or that this team is going to be any the weaker for Bill's
loss. Devil a bit of it."
And with that Jan tossed aside his stiffness and flew around among his
six team-mates, the very incarnation of masterful leadership. Not one
dog, not even old Blackfoot, escaped him; and if their leader began the
day's work as a sorely wounded dog, it was certain that each dog behind
him began it with one sore spot to occupy his mind withal. Inside of one
minute he had the six of them standing alertly to attention in their
respective places, waiting for their harness and itching to be off; not
by reason of any sudden access of virtue or industry in them, but
because the leader they had thought too sore and stiff to accomplish
much that day was pacing sternly up and down their rank, with fangs
bared, and the hint of a snarl in every breath he drew; ready, and
apparently rather anxious, to visit condign punishment upon the first
dog who should stir one paw a single inch from its proper place.
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