“Mighty glad to meet you, Mr. McNamara,” said Struve.  “Your name is a household word in my part of the country.  My people were mixed up in Dakota politics somewhat, so I’ve always had a great admiration for you and I’m glad you’ve come to Alaska.  This is a big country and we need big men.”

“Did you have any trouble?” Dunham inquired when the three had adjourned to a private room.

“Trouble,” said Struve, ruefully; “well, I wonder if I did.  Miss Chester brought me your instructions O.K. and I got busy right off.  But, tell me this—­how did you get the girl to act as messenger?”

“There was no one else to send,” answered McNamara.  “Dunham intended sailing on the first boat, but he was detained in Washington with, me, and the Judge had to wait for us at Seattle.  We were afraid to trust a stranger for fear he might get curious and examine the papers.  That would have meant—­” He moved his hand eloquently.

Struve nodded.  “I see.  Does she know what was in the documents?”

“Decidedly not.  Women and business don’t mix.  I hope you didn’t tell her anything.”

“No; I haven’t had a chance.  She seemed to take a dislike to me for some reason, I haven’t seen her since the day after she got here.”

“The Judge told her it had something to do with preparing the way for his court,” said Dunham, “and that if the papers were not delivered before he arrived it might cause a lot of trouble—­ litigation, riots, bloodshed, and all that.  He filled her up on generalities till the girl was frightened to death and thought the safety of her uncle and the whole country depended on her.”

“Well,” continued Struve, “it’s dead easy to hire men to jump claims and it’s dead easy to buy their rights afterwards, particularly when they know they haven’t got any—­but what course do you follow when owners go gunning for you?”

McNamara laughed.

“Who did that?”

“A benevolent, silver-haired old Texan pirate by the name of Dextry.  He’s one half owner in the Midas and the other half mountain-lion; as peaceable, you’d imagine, as a benediction, but with the temperament of a Geronimo.  I sent Galloway out to relocate the claim, and he got his notices up in the night when they were asleep, but at 6 A.M. he came flying back to my room and nearly hammered the door down.  I’ve seen fright in varied forms and phases, but he had them all, with some added starters.

“‘Hide me out, quick!’ he panted.

“‘What’s up?’ I asked.

“’I’ve stirred up a breakfast of grizzly bear, smallpox, and sudden death and it don’t set well on my stummick.  Let me in.’

“I had to keep him hidden three days, for this gentle-mannered old cannibal roamed the streets with a cannon in his hand, breathing fire and pestilence.”

“Anybody else act up?” queried Dunham.

“No; all the rest are Swedes and they haven’t got the nerve to fight.  They couldn’t lick a spoon if they tried.  These other men are different, though.  There are two of them, the old one and a young fellow.  I’m a little afraid to mix it up with them, and if their claim wasn’t the best in the district, I’d say let it alone.”