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The Trail of the Golden Horn

It did not take Marion long to find how true were the man’s words. No sooner were they beyond the limits of Big Chance than Zell’s entire nature seemed to change. No longer was she the quiet, timid girl she had known in the cabin watching by Tim’s side. Instead, she was transformed into a strong, confident guide, resourceful, alert, and full of abounding energy. The spirit of the wild seemed to possess her. She raced behind the toboggan, urging on the dogs, her whip cracking at times like pistol shots.

For miles the trail led through a sparsely wooded region where the trees cast long sombre shadows upon the light snow. The dogs settled into a steady jog where the ground was level, but raced like the wind down every hill. Then Zell would jump upon the tail of the toboggan and whoop aloud with glee to the speeding animals. They seemed to imbibe much of the enthusiasm of their young mistress, and upon reaching the valley below they would glance quickly around as if for a word of approval, which was never lacking. They were four noble brutes, huskies, of the Mackenzie River breed, accustomed to great hardships, and possessed of marvellous endurance. Savage they were to all except their owners. To Zell they were harmless. They obeyed her slightest wish, and she could handle them even when her father and mother failed. A word or a lifted hand from her had more effect than a shower of blows.

Marion had plenty of time to think as she sat upon the toboggan, comfortably wrapped in a big wolf-skin robe. She was glad now that she had undertaken the journey. There was much at stake, she was well aware, and she often wondered how it would all end. What she should do upon reaching The Gap, she had no idea.