The leader since the race moved out of the Alaska Range and the first musher to reach the race's halfway point at Iditarod, Swingley led the chase to the frozen Yukon River - almost two-thirds of the way to the finish line at Nome.

As the first to the Yukon, he dined on a catered, seven-course dinner and pocketed $3,500 in cash.

After seeing that his dogs were carefully bedded on straw, Swingley sat down to enjoy the meal with three-time champion Martin Buser of Big Lake, the only other musher here by lunch time.

But Swingley kept the money.

"You're not giving me half of that dessert?" Buser said, jokingly.

Not only was Swingley not sharing the cash, he didn't appear to have much interest in sharing the race lead either. He has now broken from the rest of the field, and his team appears faster than any other.

It took Swingley's dogs eight hours to cover the 90 miles of trail from Iditarod to Shageluk. Buser took 18 minutes longer.

Behind them, five-time winner Rick Swenson from Two Rivers and DeeDee Jonrowe from Willow took 8:41 and 8:37, respectively.

Possibly more telling, however, was the time for Swingley's team on the 25-mile jaunt from Shageluk to here. Nearly all the teams do that run without a rest stop.

Swingley made it in 2 hours, 41 minutes. Buser took almost 30 minutes longer. Swenson and Jonrowe, meanwhile, rested for hours in Shageluk.

While they were resting there for six hours, Swingley was getting eight hours of rest in Anvik, and completing an Iditarod requirement that calls for all teams to take one eight-hour rest on the Yukon.

He appeared confident.

"My dogs are running fine," Swingley said. "I'm just having a good time."

Though Swingley appears in control, no one is conceding the race to the 1995 champ and course record holder from Lincoln, Mont.

Back in Shageluk, Swenson said he thought other teams could eventually reel in Swingley.

"We're going to catch him," Swenson said, "but whether we'll be able to stay with him, we'll have to see."

Jonrowe appeared less optimistic.

"It's going to be tough to catch (Swingley and Buser), but it's a long way to go," she said. "The only way it's doable is if we try."

Buser may be the most vulnerable of the lead duo. He had to drop six of his 16 dogs early in the race. His 10-dog team isn't as fast as Swingley's 14 dogs, and because each dog has to work just a little harder to keep the sled moving at a good pace, its endurance is further challenged.

Swenson has 14 dogs in harness. Although Jonrowe has only 12, she is one of the smallest and lightest mushers in the race.

Swenson warns that there are several good teams behind the four lead teams.

The dogs of Nenana's Bill Cotter have most impressed four-time Iditarod champ Susan Butcher, a television commentator this year, and other race observers.

Cotter was sixth Friday, just ahead of defending Iditarod champ Jeff King of Denali Park, and just behind surprising rookie Harald Tunheim of Norway.

Cotter's best previous finish was third in 1995 - the year Swingley won. He stayed in the top 10 for the next three years, but plummeted to 19th last year.

Tunheim, a Scandinavian sled-dog racing champ, has impressed everyone with his performance this year, but he appears to be slowing.

Still, he and another half dozen teams remain in strong positions to make a move if the leaders slow up on the Yukon River or along the Bering Sea coast.

Anything can happen in the Iditarod.

Libby Riddles stole the race in 1985 when bad weather stalled most of the mushers on the coast. She went out into a blizzard and emerged from it with victory in hand.

It might take something like that for anyone to catch Swingley this year, unless bad luck intervenes.

Swingley's already riding in pain from bruised or cracked ribs, and he was almost without a sled.

He snapped a main stanchion Monday on rough trail heading into the Alaska Range. Using a foot-long piece of willow and several hose clamps, he splinted the broken strut and kept the sled together until Takotna.

But he broke a runner on his replacement sled Wednesday between Ophir and Iditarod, and limped into the halfway checkpoint. The runner was irreparable, but race officials allowed him to fly up the old, patched-together sled from Takotna under the provisions of a rule that allows for emergency replacement of broken equipment.

On Friday evening, he hopped on that battered sled and headed up the frozen Yukon toward Grayling, 18 miles away.

Buser watched him go. He still had another hour to go to complete his eight-hour, mandatory Yukon River stop.

* Associated Press reporter T.A. Badger contributed to this story