The fight we must win is to bring about an honest and reasonable adjustment, Olaf.

And that fight will take place right here--in Alaska--and not in Siberia.

And if we don't win--" He raised his eyes from the fire and smiled grimly into Olaf's bearded face.
"Then we can count on that thing coming across the neck of sea from the Gulf of Anadyr," he finished.

"And if it ever does come, the people of the States will at last face the tragic realization of what Alaska could have meant to the nation." The force of the old spirit surged uppermost in Alan again, and after that, for an hour or more, something lived for him in the glow of the fire which Olaf kept burning.

It was the memory of Mary Standish, her quiet, beautiful eyes gazing at him, her pale face taking form in the lacy wisps of birch-smoke.