“‘We’?  Are you a—­a coal person, like us?”

“Yes.  I was one of the first men in the Kyak fields, and I invested heavily.  I know Mr. Gordon’s group of claims well.  I have spent more than a hundred thousand dollars trying to perfect my titles and I’m no nearer patent now than I was to begin with—­ not so near, in fact.  I fancy Gordon has spent as much and is in the same fix.  It is a coal matter which brings me to Alaska now.”

“I hardly understand.”

“Of course not, and you probably won’t after I explain.  You see the Government gave us—­gave everybody who owns coal locations in Alaska—­three years in which to do certain things; then it extended that time another three years.  But recently a new Secretary of the Interior has come into office and he has just rescinded that later ruling, without warning, which gives us barely time to comply with the law as it first stood.  For my part, I’ll have to hustle or lose everything I have put in.  You see?  That’s why I hated to see those horses drown, for I intended to use them in reaching the coal-fields.  Now I’ll have to hire men to carry their loads.  No doubt Mr. Gordon has arranged to protect your holdings, but there are hundreds of claimants who will be ruined.”

“I supposed the Government protected its subjects,” said the girl, vaguely.

“One of the illusions taught in the elementary schools,” laughed O’Neil.  “We Alaskans have found that it does exactly the opposite!  We have found it a harsh and unreasonable landlord.  But I’m afraid I’m boring you.”  He wrapped her more snugly in her coverings, for a chill had descended with the darkness, then strove to enliven her with stories garnered from his rich experience—­stories which gave her fascinating glimpses of great undertakings and made her feel personally acquainted with people of unfamiliar type, whose words and deeds, mirthful or pathetic, were always refreshingly original.  Of certain individuals he spoke repeatedly until their names became familiar to his hearer.  He called them his “boys” and his voice was tender as he told of their doings.

“These men are your staff?” she ventured.

“Yes.  Every one who succeeds in his work must have loyal hands to help him.”

“Where are they now?”

“Oh!  Scattered from Canada to Mexico, each one doing his own particular work.  There’s Mellen, for instance; he’s in Chihuahua building a cantilever bridge.  He’s the best steel man in the country.  McKay, my superintendent, is running a railroad job in California.  ‘Happy Tom’ Slater—­”

“The funny man with the blues?”

“Exactly!  He was at work on a hydraulic project near Dawson the last I heard of him.  Dr. Gray is practising in Seattle, and Parker, the chief engineer, has a position of great responsibility in Boston.  He is the brains of our outfit, you understand; it was really he who made the North Pass & Yukon possible.  The others are scattered out in the same way, but they’d all come if I called them.”  The first note of pride she had detected crept into his voice when he said:  “My ‘boys’ are never idle.  They don’t have to be, after working with me.”