“What’s he doing here?” Decker snapped, disgruntled. “At a Chamber of Commerce lunch!”

“Why not? He flies a commercial plane, doesn’t he?” Chris retorted. “Or maybe he’s just here to see how his pupil makes out in the speaking department. That was quite a briefing he gave Mr. Distelhorst in the car.”

Again Oscar Bogard stood up, again the murmur of voices died away as the clink of metal on glass called for quiet. This time Bogard’s mien was not solemn and reverent. He was jovial, chummy, informal.

“Well, folks, I guess I don’t have to spend any valuable time introducing our next speaker. I’d rather save the time for him. You all know what Dave Husack stands for—–”

Grinning, he looked fondly at Dave and waited for the applause. Oddly, it came late, it was scattered and strangely perfunctory. In that split second of unexpected silence a woman’s voice spoke crisply and unexpectedly from the crowd in the doorway.

“It isn’t a patch on what Alaska’s standing for.”

There was a ripple of shocked but irrepressible laughter. It was plain that the remark had not been meant for the public ear.

“That was Addie Barnett,” Chris whispered. “She’ll feel awful.”

“Paul there?” Bridie asked, craning to view the hallway. “She probably was talking to him.”

“Red-haired girls,” Ott Decker observed, sagely, as the burst of startled laughter died down, “are always trigger-happy.”

Dave Husack stood up, an imposing figure, his high color even rosier than usual, so that a stranger might have thought that this fresh ruddy man had just emerged from a Turkish bath, a hot towel, a shave, a shampoo. He had whipped out his big sheer handkerchief, he dabbed at his forehead, the warm food-haunted room took on a woodsy scent. He spread his great arms wide. His voice was smooth, his manner folksy, his tone blandishing.

“Alaskans! Fellow Americans! Pioneers! I want to thank the little lady who made that timely little remark. If I could have chosen it as an introduction I would have—even though my good friend, your able and honored Mayor Oscar Bogard here, stated that I needed no introduction. Yes. You good and wonderful people have stood for a lot of things from a wise government and a well-intentioned group of national men of business. And you have grown impatient and fretful at times. And why? For the same reason that a strong healthy willful child is impatient at the restraints laid upon it by devoted and wise parents. A child cannot be left to govern itself until it has learned experience, wisdom; until its muscles are strong enough to carry it and its knowledge wide enough to guide it. A child cannot run until it has learned to walk. It cannot walk until it has learned to stand. Alaska has had a magnificent history of adventure and courage. The years to come may be even more magnificent. This vast northern empire, now a Territory struggling toward manhood among the family of the United States, will some day achieve that adult goal, and will stand forth, a great state among great states—one of the greatest, in my humble opinion, if it is allowed to mature. But that time should not be forced by men—yes, and women, too—who would try to use this glorious Territory for their own profit. If properly guided, however, by a benevolent and wise father—–”