Scarcely breathing, he waited for other signs of life abroad at that
hour of night--a night sixteen hours long. He heard nothing.

Finally, his mind took up again the endless chain of thought. He had
arrived safely at Khabarask, the terminus of the Russian line. Here he
had remained for three days, half in hiding, until the "Reindeer
Special" had completed its loading and had started on its southern
journey to the waiting doughboys. During those three days he had made
two startling discoveries; the short Russian of the broad shoulders and
sharp chin, he of the envelope of diamonds, was in Khabarask. Johnny had
seen him in an eating place, and had had an opportunity to study him
without being observed. The man, he concluded, although a total stranger
in these parts, was a person of consequence, a leader of some sort,
accustomed to being obeyed. There seemed a brutal certainty about the
way he ordered the servants of the place to do his bidding. There was a
constant wrinkle of a frown between his eyes. A man, perhaps without a
sense of humor, he would force every issue to the utmost. Once given an
idea, he would override all obstacles to carry it through, not stopping
at death, or at many deaths. This had been Johnny's mental analysis of
the character of the man, and at once he began to half hate and half
admire him. He had lost sight of him immediately, and had not discovered
him again. Whether the Russian had left town before the native band did,
Johnny could not tell. But, if he had moved on, where did he go?

The other shock was similar in character. The woman who had bought furs
for the North had also been in Khabarask. Whether she was a Japanese
Johnny was not prepared to say, and that in spite of the fact that he
had studied her carefully for five days. She might be a Chukche who,
through some strange impulse, had been led south to seek culture and