“Wilbur K. Distelhorst,” Chris interrupted, dreamily. “I love to say it. It’s like something out of Dickens. Or Sinclair Lewis.”

“Look, Chris, let me drive, will you?” Ott Decker said. “We’re a little late. Can’t even see Czar’s car. I think I hear the plane.”

“That’s an old bush crate and you know it perfectly well, Ott,” Bridie persisted. “Come on now. Something’s afoot.”

Now, for the first time, Chris tensed a little at the wheel, she risked a quick searching glance at Ott Decker’s guileless face. A boyish flush suffused it as she eyed him.

“I’m a big girl now, Ott. You’re nervous as a bridegroom. Are you importing some choice morsel from Outside? Object matrimony?”

Bridie yelped, “Ott!”

“No. And you damn well know why, so don’t needle me, Chris.”

Bridie now began to breathe heavily with the intake and exhaust of a steam pipe about to burst. “Ott Decker, if you don’t tell us this minute what you’re being so sneaky about—–”

“All right.” He threw his arms wide in a gesture of revelation. “Czar kept it under wraps. And nobody actually told me. But down at the Chamber office we put two and two together, sometimes, and it comes out five—–”

“Ott Decker!” Bridie screeched.

“Young Husack’s coming,” he blurted. “Bayard, no less. And that girl he’s going to marry—or supposed to. And he’s supposed to stay six months in Alaska. The heir apparent kind of getting acquainted with his future subjects, I suppose. The old king is kind of pooped. Long live the king.”

There was silence in the car. Even Bridie was momentarily speechless. Then she drew the long whistling bronchial breath of one who is about to blast. Ott Decker raised a restraining hand.

“Wait a minute. I haven’t finished. Nobody knows this, Chris. Nobody but your Grandpa Thor, and Paul and Addie Barnett. And, of course, Czar’s whole crowd, and they don’t know Thor knows.”

Chris began to laugh, not very merrily, for her. “Nobody? Well, we’ll have a field day with that.” She stopped, stiffened at the wheel. “But we went to press yesterday. Did they know it then? You can’t unscramble a weekly. And why didn’t somebody tell me?”

“They didn’t know until last night. It must have been too late, they distribute this noon.”

“Ott Decker! If you’ve known about this all along—–”

“I tell you I haven’t. Wouldn’t I tell you, Chris! That isn’t all. Young Husack’s only staying a month or so now, to get the feel of Alaska in the winter. That’s what they said. The feel. Then Outside till June or July, and back here and we’re supposed to do the real guided tour, Barrow to Juneau, with you chaperoning, Bridie. You window dressing, Chris. Unless he marries in the meantime. But that isn’t the idea. Just wait, you two.”

Bridie jerked her hat forward, a characteristic gesture of utter irritation. “Wait for what? What is the idea! I’ve a mind to slap you, Ott Decker, big as you are.”