was doing, still remained a mystery.

A little later he knew he had guessed the truth.

"I don't need a doctor," he said, "but it was mighty thoughtful of you
to send Amuk Toolik for one." Then he caught himself suddenly. "What a
senseless fool I am! Of course there are others who need a doctor more
than I do."

Mary nodded. "But I was thinking chiefly of you when I sent Amuk Toolik
to Tanana. He is riding Kauk, and should return almost any time now."
And she turned her face away so that he could see only the pink tip
of her ear.

"Very soon I will be on my feet and ready for travel," he said. "Then we
will start for the States, as we planned."

"You will have to go alone, Alan, for I shall be too busy fitting up the
new house," she replied, in such a quiet, composed, little voice that he
was stunned. "I have already given orders for the cutting of timber in
the foothills, and Stampede and Amuk Toolik will begin construction very
soon. I am sorry you find your business in the States so important,
Alan. It will be a little lonesome with you away."

He gasped. "Mary!"

She did not turn. "_Mary!_"

He could see again that little, heart-like throb in her throat when she
faced him.

And then he learned the secret, softly whispered, with sweet, warm lips
pressed to his.

"It wasn't a doctor I sent for, Alan. It was a minister. We need one to
marry Stampede and Nawadlook and Tautuk and Keok. Of course, you and I
can wait--"

But she never finished, for her lips were smothered with a love that
brought a little sob of joy from her heart.

And then she whispered things to him which he had never guessed of Mary
Standish, and never quite hoped to hear. She was a little wild, a little
reckless it may be, but what she said filled him with a happiness which
he believed had never come to any other man in the world. It was not her
desire to return to the States at all. She never wanted to return. She
wanted nothing down there, nothing that the Standish fortune-builders
had left her, unless he could find some way of using it for the good of
Alaska. And even then she was afraid it might lead to the breaking of
her dream. For there was only one thing that would make her happy, and
that was _his_ world. She wanted it just as it was--the big tundras, his
people, the herds, the mountains--with the glory and greatness of God
all about them in the open spaces. She now understood what he had meant
when he said he was an Alaskan a