These mothers and wives Alan met during his week in Nome. He would have
given his life if a few million people in the States could have known
these women. Something would have happened then, and the sisterhood of
half a continent--possessing the power of the ballot--would have opened
their arms to them. Men like John Graham would have gone out of
existence; Alaska would have received her birthright. For these women
were of the kind who greeted the sun each day, and the gloom of winter,
with something greater than hope in their hearts. They, too, were
builders. Fear of God and love of land lay deep in their souls, and side
by side with their men-folk they went on in this epic struggle for the
building of a nation at the top of the world.
Many times during this week Alan felt it in his heart to speak of Mary
Standish. But in the end, not even to Carl Lomen did word of her escape
his lips. The passing of each day had made her more intimately a part of
him, and a secret part. He could not tell people about her. He even made
evasions when questioned about his business and experiences at Cordova
and up the coast. Curiously, she seemed nearer to him when he was away
from other men and women. He remembered it had been that way with his
father, who was always happiest when in the deep mountains or the
unending tundras.
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