d with the enthusiasm of his first adventure.

"I tell you," he said, "people don't know what they ought to know about
Alaska. In school they teach us that it's an eternal icebox full of
gold, and is headquarters for Santa Claus, because that's where reindeer
come from. And grown-ups think about the same thing. Why"--he drew in a
deep breath--"it's nine times as large as the state of Washington,
twelve times as big as the state of New York, and we bought it from
Russia for less than two cents an acre. If you put it down on the face
of the United States, the city of Juneau would be in St. Augustine,
Florida, and Unalaska would be in Los Angeles. That's how big it is, and
the geographical center of our country isn't Omaha or Sioux City, but
exactly San Francisco, California."

"Good for you, sonny," came a quiet voice from beyond the group. "Your
geography is correct. And you might add for the education of your people
that Alaska is only thirty-seven miles from Bolshevik Siberia, and
wireless messages are sent into Alaska by the Bolsheviks urging our
people to rise against the Washington government. We've asked Washington
for a few guns and a few men to guard Nome, but they laugh at us. Do you
see a moral?"

From half-amused interest Alan jerked himself to alert tension. He
caught a glimpse of the gaunt, old graybeard who had spoken, but did not
know him. And as this man turned away, a shadowy hulk in the moonlight,
the same deep, quiet voice came back very clearly:

"And if you ever care for Alaska, you might tell your government to hang
a few such men as John Graham, sonny."

At the sound of that name Alan felt the blood in him run suddenly hot.
Only one man on the face of the earth did he hate with undying hatred,
and that man was John Graham. He would have followed, seeking the
identity of the stranger whose words had temporarily stunned the young
engineers, when he saw a slim figure standing between him and the light
of the smoking-room windows. It was Mary Standish. He knew by her
attitude that she had heard the words of the young engineer and the old
graybeard, but she was looking at _him_. And he could not remember that
he had ever seen quite that same look in a woman's face before. It was
not fright. It was more an expression of horror which comes from thought
and mental vision rather than physical things. Instantly it annoyed Alan
Holt. This was the second time she had betrayed a too susceptible
reaction in