“Well, anyhow, I stepped out, leaving the way to the United States Supreme bench unobstructed, and came North. I found it was where I belonged. I fitted in. I’m not contented—don’t think that. I’m ambitious, but I prefer these surroundings to the others—that’s all. I’m realizing my desires. I’ve made a fortune—now I’ll see what else the world has.”
He suddenly turned to her. “See here,” he abruptly questioned, “what’s your name?”
She started, and glanced towards where Dextry had stood, only to find that the old frontiersman had slipped away during the tale.
“Helen Chester,” she replied.
“Helen Chester,” he repeated, musingly. “What a pretty name! It seems almost a pity to change it—to marry, as you will.”
“I am not going to Nome to get married.”
He glanced at her quickly.
“Then you won’t like this country. You are two years too early; you ought to wait till there are railroads and telephones, and tables d’hôte, and chaperons. It’s a man’s country yet.”
“I don’t see why it isn’t a woman’s country, too. Surely we can take a part in taming it. Yonder on the Oregon is a complete railroad, which will be running from the coast to the mines in a few weeks. Another ship back there has the wire and poles and fixings for a telephone system, which will go up in a night. As to tables d’hôte, I saw a real French count in Seattle with a monocle. He’s bringing in a restaurant outfit, imported snails, and pâté de foies gras. All that’s wanting is the chaperon. In my flight from the Ohio I left mine. The sailors caught her. You see I am not far ahead of schedule.”
“What part are you going to take in this taming process?” he asked.