"That's the pity of it. She is as much a
living thing to him today as she was twenty years ago."
After a moment the captain said, "She was talking with him early this
evening, Alan."
"Miss Captain Miles Standish, you mean?"
"Yes. There seems to be something about her that amuses you."
Alan shrugged his shoulders. "Not at all. I think she is a most
admirable young person. Will you have a cigar, Captain? I'm going to
promenade a bit. It does me good to mix in with the sour-doughs."
The two lighted their cigars from a single match, and Alan went his way,
while the captain turned in the direction of his cabin.
To Alan, on this particular night, the steamship _Nome_ was more than a
thing of wood and steel. It was a living, pulsating being, throbbing
with the very heart-beat of Alaska. The purr of the mighty engines was a
human intelligence crooning a song of joy. For him the crowded passenger
list held a significance that was almost epic, and its names represented
more than mere men and women. They were the vital fiber of the land he
loved, its heart's blood, its very element--"giving in." He knew that
with the throb of those engines romance, adventure, tragedy, and hope
were on their way north--and with these things also arrogance and greed.
On board were a hundred conflicting elements--some that had fought for
Alaska, others that would make her, and others that would destroy.
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