Perrault packs the camp and loads the sled. Francois proceeds to harness the dogs. You trot up to the place Spitz would have occupied as leader, but Francois brings Sol-leks to the position. In his judgment, Sol-leks must be the best lead-dog left. 

You spring upon Sol-leks in a fury, driving him back and standing in his place.

"Eh?" Francois cries, slapping his thighs gleefully. "Look at Buck. Him think to take Spitz's job. Go way!"

You refuse to budge.

Francois becomes angry. "Now, I fix you!" he cries. He comes at you with a heavy club in his hand.

Remembering the man in the red sweater, you retreat slowly. Sol-leks is once more brought forward. The driver goes about his work. He calls to you when he is ready to put you in your old place in front of Dave. You retreat two or three steps. Francois follows; you again retreat.

Perrault and Francois run you about for the better part of an hour. They throw clubs at you. You dodge and answer with snarls, keeping out of their reach. You do not try to run away, but you retreat around and around the camp. When your desire is met, you will come in and be good.

Perrault looks at his watch. Francois shakes his head and grins sheepishly at his companion, who shrugs his shoulders in sign that they are beaten. Then Francois goes up to where Sol-leks stands and calls to you. He unfastens Sol-leks' traces, and he puts him back in his old place. 

There is no place for you but the front. You trot in, laughing triumphantly, and you swing around into position at the head of the team. 

At a bound you take up the duties of leadership. Where judgment is required, and quick thinking, you show yourself the superior even of Spitz. But it is in giving the law and making your mates live up to it, that you excel.

The general tone of the team picks up immediately. It recovers its old-time solidarity, and once more the dogs leap as one dog in the traces. At the river rapids, two huskies, Teek and Koona, are added. The speed with which you break them in takes away Francois's breath.

"Never such a dog as that Buck!" he cries. "Him worth one thousand dollar!"

The trail is in excellent condition, well packed and hard. There is no new-fallen snow with which to contend. It is not too cold. The men ride and run by turn, and the dogs are kept on the jump, making infrequent stops.

On the last night of the second week, you top a pass and drop down the sea slope. The lights of the city of Skaguay are at your feet. It is a record run. 

For three days Perrault and Francois throw chests up and down the main street, while the team is the constant center of a worshipful crowd. 

Next come official orders. Francois calls you to him, throws his arms around you, weeps over you. And that is the last of Francois and Perrault. Like other men, they pass out of your life for good.

A Scotch man takes charge of you and your mates. In the company of a dozen other dog-teams, he starts back over the weary trail to Dawson. It is no light running now. It is heavy toil each day, with a heavy load behind. This is the mail train, carrying word from the world to the men who seek gold under the shadow of the Pole.

You do not like it, but you bear up well to the work. One day is very like another. Each morning, fires are built, and breakfast is eaten. Then, while some people break camp, others harness the dogs. You are under way an hour or so before dawn pierces the darkness. 

At night, camp is made, and the dogs are fed. To you, this is the best part of the day. After the fish is eaten, you loaf around for an hour or so with the dozens of other dogs. There are fierce fighters among them, but three battles with the fiercest brings you to mastery.

It is a hard trip, with the mail behind you, and the heavy work wears you down. You are short of weight and in poor condition when you arrive at Dawson. But in two days' time you are expected to drop down the Yukon bank, loaded with letters for the outside.

You should have a week's rest. You are in no shape for the journey, and neither are your mates. Another hard trek without sufficient rest could kill some or all of your team--even you. But do you dare disobey your new master? Should you refuse to leave? Or is doing so more dangerous than the journey itself? What will you choose to do?

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Excerpted from Can You Survive the Call of the Wild?: A Choose Your Path Book by Ryan Jacobson
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.