“Excuse, please,” the little man bowed low. “Mr. Speed Samson, he comes to this place very soon. Is it not so?”
“I—I don’t know,” replied Mary.
“It is so. I am convinced. With your kindness I shall wait. It is important, so important to my people.” The little man bowed once more.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” was Mary’s welcome.
The driver was dismissed. Mr. Il-ay-ok entered. Mary experienced a cold shudder as she thought, “Peter Loome may follow on his trail.” But she introduced the little man to her mother and did all in her power to make him feel at home.
When, true to Il-ay-ok’s prophecy, Speed came zooming in from the sky, the little Eskimo, nearly bursting out the door in his haste, went racing down to the landing.
“Excuse, please,” he exclaimed as Speed stepped from the plane. “You must take me to Nome. I must go soon, perhaps at once. You shall take me to Nome.”
“Who says that?” the aviator grinned.
“I say it. I, Mr. Il-ay-ok.”
“Well,” Speed drawled, “can’t do it.”