Captain Rifle, gray and old in the Alaskan Steamship service, had
not lost the spirit of his youth along with his years. Romance was
not dead in him, and the fire which is built up of clean adventure
and the association of strong men and a mighty country had not died
out of his veins. He could still see the picturesque, feel the
thrill of the unusual, and - at times - warm memories crowded upon
him so closely that yesterday seemed today, and Alaska was young
again, thrilling the world with her wild call to those who had
courage to come and fight for her treasures, and live - or die.
Tonight, with the softly musical throb of his ship under his feet,
and the yellow moon climbing up from behind the ramparts of the
Alaskan mountains, something of loneliness seized upon him, and he
said simply:
General
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