5

THEY WERE IN THE TOWN NOW, briefly bright and sparkling. The brand-new orchid-colored car crunched crisply over the feathery snow. Others flashed past it—red green blue pink gray cream. The new four-story Federal Building came into view, solid stone and cement, many-windowed.

“It might be any town,” Distelhorst said, his tone rather flat. Then, hastily, “I mean, it’s a lot more modern than I expected, everything looks up-to-date and clean as a whistle.”

“It isn’t, really,” Chris said, perversely. “It’s only snow-covered. Everybody throws everything out of doors during the winter, it’s too cold to cart it away, and besides there’s no proper system. Then, when summer comes it’s all in the streets and in the doorways and yards—tin cans and orange peels and rags and oil drums and old boots.”

“Now, Chris,” Ott Decker mumbled, soothingly.

“Look! Look!” Dina came to life. Around the Polaris Street corner dashed a team of twelve huskies pulling a dog sled guided by a fur-clad man who alternately ran behind the sled or lightly flipped one of its runners.

Even Bay Husack was moved to utterance. The anachronistic outfit ran alongside the car, the faces of the occupants stared out at the bronze-skinned smiling man.

“My God, no!” exclaimed Distelhorst, almost reverently.

“Chris, you think of everything,” Bay Husack said. “But how did you get him to time it on that split second?”

“What nonsense!” Chris retorted, briskly. “He won the dog sled races yesterday. It was the last day of the Winter Festival. You should have come in time for it. He’s just showing off.”

Ott Decker had slowed down. The dog sled was coming alongside now. Ross Guildenstern lowered the car window and stuck out his head. “Hi!” he called to the man on the sled runner. “I hear you won out yesterday.”

“Hi!” The broad bronze face half hidden in the fur hood now flashed with the brilliance of the warm friendly smile. “Sure did.”

“How much?”

“Seventy miles. Four hours, thirteen minutes, five seconds. Rough going.”

“Stout fella!” Ross shouted; and closed the window. “My cousin,” he explained over his shoulder to the three in the back seat. “Harry Noyakpuk. He lives up in Wiseman. Ott, drop me off at the corner of Bonanza, will you? Thanks for the lift. Thanks a lot, Chris.” He turned to face the visitors, his manner his tone correct. Only the eyes still shone with glints of amusement. “Good-bye. I hope you will enjoy your visit in Alaska. Perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of being your pilot some time.” He opened the door, stepped out, raised a hand in farewell, was off.

Chris did not turn her head. “Does that mean you’re up here to stay?”

“Relax.” Bay laughed, and the sound was not merry. “Not forever. A week or two, perhaps. Now, that is. And then maybe back in the summer for a longer time.”

“I’m the more tropical type,” Dina said. “As you know, Chris. I wanted to go to Honolulu this month.” Her speech, which had been marked by a languid elegance, now had a surprisingly common quality, as though she had been caught off guard.