violated that law, defied it. He actually, for the moment, had set
himself up as a dictator.

"Gee!" he muttered. "Wish I had time to be their king!"

But he didn't have time, for in the first place, all the pangs of past
homesick days were returning to urge him across the Strait. In the
second place the mystery of the Russian and Hanada's relation to him was
calling for that action. And, in the third place, much as he might enjoy
being king of the Chukches, he was quite sure he would never be offered
that job. There would be reactions from this day's business. The council
of headmen would be called. Johnny would be discussed. He had committed
an act of diplomatic indiscretion. He might be asked to leave these
shores; and then again an executioner might be appointed for him, and a
walrus lance thrust through his back.

Yes, he would move. But first he must see the Jap girl and ask about her
plans. It would not do to desert her. Hurrying down the snow path, he
came upon her at the entrance to her igloo.

Together they entered, and, sitting cross-legged on the deer skins by
the seal oil lamp, they discussed their futures.

The girl made a rather pitiful figure as she sat there in the glow of
the yellow light. Much of her splendid "pep" seemed to have oozed away.

As Johnny questioned her, she answered quite frankly. No, she would not
attempt to cross the Strait on the ice. It would be quite dangerous,
and, beside, she had promised to stay. She did not say the promise had
been made to Hanada but Johnny guessed that. Evidently they had thought