Aft of the smoking-room he paused, tipping the ash of his cigar over the
edge of the rail. A little group of three stood near him, and he
recognized them as the young engineers, fresh from college, going up to
work on the government railroad running from Seward to Tanana. One of
them was talking, filled 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: