"Yes."

"Why did you say what you did about John Graham? What did the other man
mean when he said he should be hung?"

There was an intense directness in her question which for a moment
astonished him. She had withdrawn her fingers from his arm, and her slim
figure seemed possessed of a sudden throbbing suspense as she waited for
an answer. They had turned a little, so that in the light of the moon
the almost flowerlike whiteness of her face was clear to him. With her
smooth, shining hair, the pallor of her face under its lustrous
darkness, and the clearness of her eyes she held Alan speechless for a
moment, while his brain struggled to seize upon and understand the
something about her which made him interested in spite of himself. Then
he smiled and there was a sudden glitter in his eyes.

"Did you ever see a dog fight?" he asked.

She hesitated, as if trying to remember, and shuddered slightly. "Once."

"What happened?"

"It was my dog--a little dog. His throat was torn--"

He nodded. "Exactly. And that is just what John Graham is doing to
Alaska, Miss Standish. He's the dog--a monster. Imagine a man with a
colossal financial power behind him, setting out to strip the wealth
from a new land and enslave it to his own desires and political
ambitions. That is what John Graham is doing from his money-throne down
there in the States. It's the financial support he represents, curse