From the bosom of her dress she drew an envelope-shaped packet sewn in membrane. She handed it to President Dean. Through the transparent skin that covered it, he saw on the yellowed paper that it was addressed to the National Geographic Society, and to "Zenas Wright, if he still be a member." For a moment he turned it over in his hands. Then he passed it to Wright. "Open it, old friend, and read," he said. And this is what Zenas Wright read: "Most of the contents of this packet are proofs, to be laid at the disposal of the society; for I have found the pole, Zenas. I have stood where no other man has ever stood. But that's in the proofs, Zenas--and you shall see them, if Polaris wins through with them. If not--why, then, one more vain dream. "This is my son, Polaris, Zenas, who brings my message to the world. You remember I always wanted to do big things. Well, I decided to find the pole. I would go alone, and the glory of achievement would be mine alone. Now I am dying here in the snows, and the only human face I've seen for years is that of my son. "Briefly, I took enough money from my estates to serve my purposes and went atraveling. Then I disappeared. I bought a ship, the Yedda, in Japan. I had her fitted out in Nagasaki and Hong Kong. Then I went to Australia. We sailed from there. "Alas I met _her_ before we sailed. I was mad. We eloped, and God forgive me, I took her with me. She was the daughter of a wealthy trader in Sydney, Horace Kering. "We sailed into the snows. We camped, and I pushed through with dogs. I was gone months. I found the pole. I returned. They had deserted. The scoundrels had gone and left her; only the old cook was faithful. I never heard of them again, and often I hoped that they were lost. "The child was born. She lived but a few short months. Then she went, too. The cook also, he's dead these many years. The boy lived. "We would have come north together, but then I fell and hurt my leg. I will never travel. The boy, he's taken care of both of us for years. He knows not his own name, except that I call him Polaris. I've educated him. For years I've trained his mind. The life has trained his body. He's stronger than I ever was, and I was no weakling. "When I go, he'll go to the north. That won't be long, now. My God, I've been here twenty-four years! What must have happened out in the world! But, Zenas, I'll not whine. Old comrade, if the boy comes, be good to him. He's a good lad. There's enough left of the old estate in California to make him rich, if it's been cared for. I've left him no letter, but tell him that his old father loved him well. "Good-by, Zenas. "Stephen Janess."