isappeared through a door out upon the
deck.

"One of John Graham's men," he said. "A fellow named Rossland, going up
to get a final grip on the salmon fishing, I understand. They'll choke
the life out of it in another two years. Funny what this filthy stuff we
call money can do, isn't it? Two winters ago I saw whole Indian villages
starving, and women and little children dying by the score because of
this John Graham's money. Over-fishing did it, you understand. If you
could have seen some of those poor little devils, just skin and bones,
crying for a rag to eat--"

Her hand clutched at his arm. "How could John Graham--do that?" she
whispered.

He laughed unpleasantly. "When you have been a year in Alaska you won't
ask that question, Miss Standish. _How_? Why, simply by glutting his
canneries and taking from the streams the food supply which the natives
have depended upon for generations. In other words, the money he handles
represents the fish trust--and many other things. Please don't
misunderstand me. Alaska needs capital for its development. Without it
we will not only cease to progress; we will die. No territory on the
face of the earth offers greater opportunities for capital than Alaska
does today. Ten thousand fortunes are waiting to be made here by men who
have money to invest.

"But John Graham does not represent the type we want. He is a despoiler,
one of those whose only desire is to turn original resource into dollars
as fast as he can, even though those operations make both land and water
barren. You must remember until recently the government of Alaska as
manipulated by Washington politicians was little better than that
against which the American colonies rebelled in 1776. A hard thing for
one to say about the country he loves, isn't it? And John Graham stands
for the worst--he and the money which guarantees his power.

"As a matter of fact, big and legitimate capital is fighting shy of
Alaska. Conditions are such, thanks to red-tapeism and bad politics,
that capital, big and little, looks askance at Alaska and cannot be
interested. Think of it, Miss Standish! There are thirty-eight separate
bureaus at Washington operating on Alaska, five thousand miles away. Is
it a wonder the patient is sick? And is it a wonder that a man like John
Graham, dishonest and corrupt to the soul, has a fertile field to
work in?

"But we are progressing. We are slowly coming out from under the shadow
which has so long