Thor Storm had been absent from Baranof for more than a year. Isador Raffsky, the fur trader from Oogruk, came down with the news. Authentic news.

“The missionary minister of the Presbyterian mission up near Kotzebue married them in a regular church ceremony, right in the Mission Church. A year ago, almost. The baby has black hair and blue eyes. A boy. Christopher Storm his name is.”

“So the girls around here weren’t good enough for him,” the boys jeered. “He had to be choosy and get him a real select Eskimo squaw. Say, I always knew he was nutty, but I sure didn’t think he was really crazy like that. Next thing he’ll be bringing her here, I suppose, and expecting our womenfolks to call.”

With a great show of casualness a questioner would approach Thor.

“Haven’t seen you for a coon’s age, Thor. You been away?”

“Yes.”

“Far?”

“Any place is far in Alaska, isn’t it?”

“I see Czar’s made another trip to Seattle and back. Way he goes Outside, you’d think it was across the street. What’s he do so much in Seattle?”

“Business, I suppose. He’s a man of business, Czar.”

“There was a fella here to see him last month, you were gone that time, too. Must have been one of those Seattle or San Francisco millionaires, he had a coat was fur-lined, and cloth on the outside, I guess the Eskimos aren’t so dumb after all, that’s the way they fix their parkys. Anyway, one of the boys saw it, says it was mink from collar to hem, inside, mind you! And a gold watch chain this thick, you’d think he was the one had struck Bonanza Creek. Know who he was?”

“No. Who?”

“I’m not telling you, I’m asking you.”

“I don’t know.”

“They say it isn’t all business strictly with Czar, those trips Outside. I notice he don’t have much to say to the nice girls here in town, or the other kind either. They say he goes around with high-class society in Seattle and they say he’s making up to Einar Wendt’s daughter, the Tacoma lumberman. Lumber king, some call him. They say she’s real plain-featured. And no chicken. Still and all, I guess Czar knows what he’s after, he usually does. Like the fella says, you can’t sometimes see the woods for the trees. They say he’s fixing to marry her. Is that right?”

“It sounds a practical plan.”

“Czar’s practical, that’s sure. Still and all, no daughter of Einar Wendt is going to come to Alaska to live. Czar’ll have to settle down in Tacoma, for all he says Alaska is the only place for him.”

In Czar’s presence, one of the men essayed a mild joke about this rumored courtship. Czar did not openly resent this, his face remained impassive, perhaps the cold blue-gray eyes became a degree more icy behind the screen of the long black lashes. A little later the joker found himself somehow in trouble. He had difficulty with his credit at the store. Big Lena, at the Nugget, treated him coldly, finally refused to have anything to do with him. Then an inexplicable dispute arose concerning his claim on Heekarree Creek.