Ott Decker shook his head as he regarded them severely. “Riding again. You know what the building manager said he’d do if you kids didn’t keep out of the elevators.”

The boys said nothing. They did not look at him. Bridie the omniscient took over. “You the Kashak boys? No, you can’t all be, you’re all of a size. Not that that figures. Why’n’t you at school, anyway?”

“It’s lunch hour,” the three said, reasonably enough, in unison.

“What do you think this is!” Ott Decker demanded, wrathfully. He turned to Bay. “You’d think this was a Coney Island concession. Up and down, up and down, you can’t keep ’em out of it.”

“There’s only three elevators in Baranof,” Bridie explained. “The new Federal Building—the kids dassen’t go near it—and the Daily Lode office building and this. This is the easiest, always so crowded. Now you listen to me, boys”—she now underwent a surprising change of tone—“you had lunch?”

“Lunch!” Ott shouted indignantly as the vast lift bumped to a stop.

Bay Husack put a hand on the shoulder of one of the boys. “Are you an Eskimo, sonny?”

The boy’s lively face became utterly impassive, he said nothing.

“No,” Ott replied, “not Eskimo. They’re natives.”

“Aren’t Eskimos natives?”

“No. Well, they’re native but they’re not Natives. The two don’t mix.”

The door slid open, any possible explanation was lost here at the top floor, for there stood a large man who loomed larger owing to his foreground pattern of very loud red-and-yellow plaid wool shirt.

He glared in triumph at the three small boys. “I knew you’d end up here. Now then—out!”

Bridie executed an astonishing about-face. “Will Goomer, if you lay a hand on these boys I’ll report you to the police and the City Council.”

“Look, Bridie,” the man said in an aggrieved tone, “will you let me run my building and you can run the rest of the town? Out!” he shouted again to the boys. “You kids are going to walk down twelve flights of stairs and I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Now out! And git!”

The three emerged, they clattered down the corridor with whoops of joy, the four adults stepped out, Will Goomer stepped in and began to hand out the luggage with all the suavity of an old retainer.

“Airplanes are everyday stuff to them, they’ve seen ’em all their lives, but elevators, that’s new. Welcome to Baranof, folks. Hope you’ll be comfortable. Anything you want here in the Ice Palace just ask for Will Goomer.” The great metal door slid shut, obliterating the plaid-shirted giant.

“Here we are!” Ott announced, fatuously; began to wrestle with the luggage. Bridie swept the narrow passageway with a welcoming gesture that seemed almost to banish the dim lights, the grim painted walls, the utility cement floor, and by some magic of her own deck it with satin damask and porphyry and glittering crystal chandeliers.

“This way,” she announced. “You’ve got the Governor’s suite, no less.” Her agile step made nothing of the corridor’s turns. “This way, folks.”