Magic Tree House #54 Page 3

  “And your job, Oki, is to stay with your uncle and be near your sister and mother,” said Jack.

  “If you are out in the storm, your uncle will be sick with worry,” said Annie. “And your mother and sister would not want that.”

  Oki stared out toward the frozen sea for a moment. He looked very troubled. “I want to go with you,” he said finally. “But I will stay here for the sake of my uncle.” He held the gate open so Jack and Annie could enter the dog pen.

  “Come on, guys,” Jack said to the huskies. “Let’s buckle up!” He and Annie pulled off their mittens. Even in the dark, they had no trouble hitching the dogs into their harnesses.

  “I’ll get the rigging,” said Oki. He grabbed a bundle of lines from the basket of the sled and began untangling them.

  When Jack and Annie finished putting harnesses on all the dogs, they hooked the team to the rigging. They quickly and calmly attached tug lines to the harnesses and fastened neck lines to collars.

  “Work with us, guys!” Annie said as they tried to hitch the excited dogs to the towline.

  A lead dog jumped up and licked Jack’s face.

  Jack laughed. He knew not to scold the dogs and risk dampening their enthusiasm. The team would need their high spirits to run the tough race ahead.

  Soon all the huskies were strung to the towline, lined up in pairs. The two lead dogs stood proudly in front, their tails high, their noses sniffing the air. The bells on their collars jingled.

  Two swing dogs stood behind the leads. Two team dogs stood behind them, and two wheel dogs stood directly in front of the sled.

  “You guys are the best!” said Jack.

  The dogs whined and barked, as if eager to go.

  “You are both very good with the dogs,” said Oki.

  “Be firm. Be fair. Give kindness and respect,” said Annie. “That’s how we always treat them. We promise.”

  “Thank you,” said Oki.

  Jack and Annie pulled on their mittens. “How far is Solomon?” Jack asked.

  “About thirty-five miles,” said Oki. “In about twenty miles you will pass the roadhouse in Port Safety. Maybe fifteen more, you will come to the roadhouse in Solomon, where you will find Gunnar Kaasen.”

  “Any idea how long the trip should take?” asked Annie.

  “About five hours to get there,” said Oki.

  “So around ten to go and come back,” Annie said to Jack.

  “No problem. Where does the trail start?” Jack asked Oki.

  “Just beyond the yard,” said the boy, “where you see tracks in the snow.”

  “Got it,” said Jack. He turned to Annie. “How about I drive first? You can sit in the basket, and then we’ll switch?”

  “Okey dokey,” said Annie. The dogs were still as she took her position in the basket of the sled. She sat on the wooden slats and held the side railings.

  Jack stepped onto the long runners that extended behind the basket. He gripped the two handles of the sled, bent his knees, and leaned forward. He felt as if he’d driven a dogsled all his life.

  “I’ll get the snow hook,” said Oki. He picked up a metal hook that anchored the sled to the snow. He put it in the basket in front of Annie. Then he added the sack of dried fish. “Dog food,” he explained.

  “Cool,” said Annie.

  “All set?” Jack asked.

  “All set,” Annie said. “Oki, please tell your uncle we’ll take good care of his team.”

  “See you in the morning!” said Jack.

  “Good luck!” said Oki.

  “Line out!” Jack called to the dogs, knowing all the right commands to use. Bells jingling, the lead dogs drew the team straight out in front of the pen.

  “Hike!” Jack shouted. All eight huskies bounded forward and pulled the sled into the cold Alaskan night.

  Moonlight cast a silvery glow over the icebound sea. The huskies’ heavy breathing made a cloud over the team as it glided along the coast. The only other sounds in the darkness were the jingling bells of the lead dogs, the creaking of the sled basket, and the swish of the smooth wooden runners over the snow.

  As the dogs did their job, Jack magically knew how to do his: He knew how to “pedal” the sled by pushing the ground with his right foot while keeping his left on the runner. He knew how to push in the perfect rhythm to keep the team from running too fast, so they wouldn’t pant and hurt their lungs in the freezing air. He knew how to balance his weight and bend his legs to absorb the shock of bumps on the trail. He knew how to keep all the lines tight and straight, so none of the dogs would get tangled in them.

  Jack knew all the musher commands, too. When the team came to a snowdrift, he shouted, “Gee!” to make the wheel dogs curve to the right.

  When the team came to another drift, he shouted, “Haw!” to make the wheel dogs curve to the left.

  When it was time to straighten out the towline again, Jack shouted, “Straight ahead!”

  Every time the dogs did what Jack commanded, he said, “Good dogs!” But he hardly said more. He knew the fewer words, the better. The dogs depended on clear commands.

  Riding in the sled basket, Annie was silent, too, though several times Jack heard her gasp and say, “Wow!”

  “Wow!” is right, Jack thought. The windless Alaskan night was beautiful. Maybe the forecast was wrong. Maybe their ride would just be a thrilling race to save lives.

  Mile after mile, the huskies ran along the well-worn trail. When the dogs raced down an incline, Jack dragged his heel to keep them from going too fast. When they labored up an incline, he lightened their load by hopping off and running beside the sled, holding on to one of the handles to keep it steady. When the trail was flat again, he jumped back on the runners.

  “Good driving!” Annie called.

  Jack smiled. He loved being a champion musher. He loved knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. But he especially loved the easy connection he felt with the huskies. Sometimes he even felt like a running dog himself as he pedaled in rhythm to their pace.

  Lost in his thoughts, Jack failed to notice a change in the weather, until he heard Annie call out, “The storm’s starting!”

  Jack realized it had gotten colder and darker. Clouds covered the moon. The wind was blowing, and snow was falling. Snowflakes began to freeze on the lenses of Jack’s glasses. Soon he couldn’t see well enough to give commands to the dogs. Flying blindly down the trail, he tried to wipe his glasses with a fur mitten, but that only made it worse.

  As the huskies headed into a sharp curve, Jack lost his balance. He slipped off the runners and tumbled into the snow. The huskies came to a halt and started barking.

  “What happened?” Annie shouted.

  “My glasses got messed up,” Jack said, picking himself up. “I couldn’t see anything.”

  “Don’t worry, that happens,” said Annie.

  “I guess I was too sure of myself,” said Jack.

  “Even champion mushers have problems if they can’t see,” said Annie. “Let’s switch places for a while. I’d love to drive.”

  “Sure, thanks!” said Jack. He climbed into the basket and sat on the boards, while Annie took her position on the runners.

  “Line out!” Annie commanded the dogs.

  The team straightened out the lines.

  “Good dogs!” Annie shouted. “Hike! Straight ahead!”

  The huskies started running again. As they pulled the sled through the swirling snow, Jack took off a mitten and scraped his glasses with his bare fingers. When his skin started burning with pain from the cold and wind, he quickly put the mitten back on.

  Annie kept a steady hand and a steady pace as she drove the eight huskies through the snowstorm. The wind blew harder, but she shifted her weight to keep the swaying sled from tipping over. She never let the towline go slack and get tangled with the other lines. Every time she yelled “Gee” or “Haw,” Jack leaned to the right or left to help the sled around the curves.

  Whe
n the dogs started up a slope, Jack knew he should lighten their load. “I’ll get off!” he called to Annie.

  “Easy!” Annie commanded the team.

  As the huskies slowed down, Jack jumped out of the basket. “I’ll run awhile!” he yelled.

  “Okay, but stay close!” said Annie. Then she commanded the dogs to pick up speed again: “Get up!” The team easily dashed up the incline and sped along the frozen shore.

  Jack decided to keep running. It felt good to move in the biting cold. Then suddenly he heard the grinding of the sled runners. The team was running over ice instead of snow! Jack heard a loud cracking sound beneath his boots. His feet had broken through the ice! His fur boots sank into a freezing puddle almost a foot deep.

  The team sailed ahead of Jack, pulling Annie and the sled away from the ice. Left behind in the snowy dark, Jack tried to climb out of the crack, but more ice broke off. His feet were getting soaked!

  “Annie!” he shouted. “Annie! Stop!”

  “Gee!” Annie yelled. Jack could hear her turning the team around. He heard the bells of the lead dogs as they headed toward him.

  “Whoa!” Annie brought the huskies to a stop.

  “Stay back!” Jack shouted. “There’s thin ice here! Keep the dogs back!” If the huskies got their feet wet, their soft pads would quickly stick to the ice and freeze.

  Jack used all his strength to pull his boots out of the crack. He slipped and slid across the ice and snow as he made his way to the sled. “Come on, let’s go!” he cried, climbing into the basket. “My feet are soaked!”

  “Hike!” Annie yelled.

  As the dogs took off through the bone-chilling cold, Jack felt his feet burning with pain. Soon they started to grow numb. As an expert musher, he knew that wet feet lost heat twenty-five times faster than dry feet. He had to get out of the cold immediately or he would suffer severe frostbite.

  Before Jack could think of what to do, the huskies slowed down and yelped with excitement.

  “Oh, wow!” said Annie as the team came to a stop.

  Jack’s glasses were covered with ice again. “What is it?” he shouted, unable to see. “What’s there?”

  “We’ve come to a house!” yelled Annie. “There’s smoke from a chimney! And there’s a light shining inside!”

  “Just in time!” said Jack. He climbed painfully out of the basket as Annie set the snow hook in the ground to hold the dogs. “Stay!” she commanded. She helped Jack through the blowing snow to the front door of a log cabin.

  Annie banged on the wooden door.

  A moment later, it opened. “Gunnar?” a man said, peering into the snowstorm.

  “No!” Annie shouted. “The ice cracked and my brother fell through! His feet are soaking wet! Can you help us?”

  “Hurry! Get inside!” the man said.

  With Annie’s help, Jack limped into the warm, firelit cabin. He took off his mittens and wiped snow and ice from his glasses.

  “Sit near the stove!” the man commanded. “I’ll heat some water!”

  Annie helped Jack out of his parka, and he sat on a wooden chair near a crackling woodstove.

  “Take off his boots!” the man said.

  Annie helped Jack pull off his fur boots and wool socks, then set them near the stove. The man grabbed a kettle from the top of the woodstove and poured water into a bucket.

  Jack looked at his wet feet. They were white and numb from the cold. He couldn’t move his toes.

  “How are they?” the man said, lugging the bucket to Jack.

  “N-not bad,” Jack said. He was still trembling from the cold.

  “Not good,” said the man, looking at Jack’s feet. He set the bucket down in front of Jack. “Soak them awhile.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack. As he put his feet into the warm water, he was overcome with pain. He started to pull them out, but the man stopped him.

  “Keep ’em there, kid,” he said.

  “Okay,” said Jack, gritting his teeth. Listening to the howling wind and the snow pelting the cabin windows, he worried about the huskies. “Can—can we bring our dog team inside?” he asked.

  “Sure, I’ll unhitch them from their harnesses. You stay here and soak your feet,” the man said. Then he threw on a parka and hurried outside to get the dogs.

  “I’ll help him,” Annie said to Jack. “Don’t move.” And she followed the man back into the storm.

  As Jack sat alone in the one-room cabin and soaked his feet, he worried about the time. He looked around for a clock but didn’t see one. How long would it take for his boots to dry? he wondered. Would his feet be okay? Did the dogs have frostbite, too?

  Jack was glad when the door opened. “Everyone in!” Annie shouted. Hauling the sack of dried fish with her, she led the huskies inside.

  The man followed the team into the cabin and slammed the door against the storm. “Go! Sit,” he ordered the dogs. He pointed to dry straw spread over the floor. The bedraggled huskies took slow steps across the room and settled down in the straw.

  “Feel any better?” the man asked Jack.

  “Yes,” said Jack. His teeth had stopped chattering, and the pain in his feet had lessened. “I’m Jack. She’s my sister, Annie.”

  “I know, she told me,” said the man. “I’m Ed.” He grabbed the kettle and poured a little more steamy water into the bucket.

  “Ed’s a musher, too,” said Annie. “His team is in a shed behind the cabin. He’s a mailman, like Oki’s uncle. He recognized their dogs.”

  “Cool,” said Jack.

  “Yep,” said Ed. “Keep soaking your feet while your sister and I take care of the dogs.”

  Jack kept his feet in the bucket as Ed poured drinking water into a large pot and gave it to the team. Then Ed and Annie knelt in the straw and massaged the dogs’ feet, one paw at a time. The huskies panted and looked as if they were smiling.

  “Good dogs, good dogs,” Annie kept saying.

  “That’s right, good dogs,” Ed chimed in.

  Jack saw that the musher was missing teeth and his beard was scraggly. Even so, his face had dignity and strength, Jack thought. Now that he understood the job of a professional musher, he admired Ed a lot.

  “Ed lives here, at the Port Safety roadhouse,” Annie said. “That’s a good name for it, huh?”

  Jack nodded. As the wind howled outside, it did feel safe inside the cabin, but he worried that they couldn’t stay. They had only twelve hours of magic. “Do you know what time it is?” he asked.

  “Hold on.” Ed pulled out a pocket watch. “Almost midnight,” he said.

  So almost eight and a half hours left to find Gunnar Kaasen and return to Nome, thought Jack. Suddenly he remembered something. “Ed, why did you call us Gunnar when you opened the door?”

  “Did you mean Gunnar Kaasen?” asked Annie. “Were you expecting him?”

  “I did mean Gunnar Kaasen,” said Ed. “Earlier today I was told to wait for him. If he gets tired on his journey, I’m supposed to take his package on to Nome. But then I got word from Solomon that Gunnar would be staying there awhile. When I heard a knock, I thought he’d decided to push on.”

  “No,” said Annie. “The mayor of Nome told him to wait until the storm ends. At least that’s what someone told us.”

  “Good thing,” said Ed. “Only a crazy fool would drive in a storm like this. So why the heck were you two out there?”

  “Uh…well, we just went out for a short ride to…uh…,” said Annie.

  “To exercise Oki’s uncle’s dogs,” said Jack, “while Oki’s at the hospital.”

  “Right,” said Annie. “And then we got lost.”

  “You’re lucky you found this place before you froze to death,” said Ed.

  “Yeah. Really lucky,” said Jack.

  “How are your feet?” Ed asked him.

  Jack pulled his feet out of the water. His skin was pink, and the terrible pain was gone. He wiggled his toes. “I think they’re going to be okay,” he sai
d.

  “Good news,” said Ed. He grabbed a towel and a pair of socks from an old canvas bag and tossed them to Jack. “These socks will be too big, but better big socks than wet ones.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack, drying his feet, then pulling on the warm, woolly socks.

  “You just dodged a case of frostbite, mister,” said Ed. “I bet you kids will think twice before taking a joyride in a blizzard again.”

  “Well, actually, I think we should be heading home soon,” said Jack. “But don’t worry. It’s not far.”

  “What? Are you two crazy? In this weather?” said Ed.

  “Well, we’re, um, champion mushers,” Annie said in a small voice.

  “Oh, yeah?” Ed squinted at her. “What races have you won?”

  “Well…um…they weren’t in Alaska,” Annie said. “We, uh…we won the Frog Creek Winter Relay and—”

  “Never heard of it,” said Ed. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care who you are; you’re not going back out in that storm. Your team needs to rest, if nothing else. And eat! Right, fellas?”

  Ed grabbed the burlap sack and pulled out flat pieces of dried pink fish. The huskies wiggled and whined as Ed started feeding them.

  Annie looked at Jack. “Maybe we can stay a little bit longer?” she said under her breath.

  Jack nodded. “Okay. But we have to keep our eye on the time.”

  “We will,” said Annie.

  The dogs gobbled up every piece of fish and drank from bowls of water. Then the huskies sat down, put back their heads, and began to howl. The wind howled outside as all eight dogs howled inside.

  Jack knew the howling meant the dogs were satisfied. He, Annie, and Ed laughed, until the howling stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

  The dogs then began nodding happily off to sleep, one by one. Some lay on their sides, while others curled up in tight balls and covered their noses with their bushy tails.

  “All right! Now let’s get you some food and drink!” said Ed.

  “Can you please tell us what time it is again?” asked Jack.

  Ed glanced at his watch. “One-fifteen,” he said.