It was in all the papers at the time. Men searching in the Artic had found a yellow metal. Gold. A mad fever spread as far as word can travel, and thousands more rushed to the North to try their luck. These men needed dogs. Big dogs with strong muscles to pull their sleds.
This is a map of the Yukon. My son was always reading adventure stories, crazy about the news coming out of the Yukon. Wasn’t the gold, he didn’t care about that, it was the mountains. He spent all day looking at maps and pictures of the mountains, dreaming about was on the other side, places no one had been, wild places. We could go, you and me, see what’s out there. What do you think?
There’s a place in these mountains where a new breed of timber wolf roams, wiser than men or wolf, because of the dog that runs at the head of a pack. Now… they live without fear, raise their young and flourish.
Some say that’s the legend. Not so. You see, I knew him once, when he was just a dog at a men side. And even all this land is his, every summer, when he comes down to the valley, he remembers kind hands and old masters… before he went to his own… became his own master… before he heard the call.
