The Northern Hotel was less than three-quarters built, but within an hour after it had changed ownership it was in process of demolition. The Countess Courteau was indeed a "lightning striker"; while Phillips went through the streets offering double wages to men who could wield hammer and saw, and the possibility of transportation clear to Dawson for those who could handle an oar, she called off the building crew and set them to new tasks, then she cleared the house of its guests. Rooms were invaded with peremptory orders to vacate; the steady help was put to undoing what they had already done, and soon the premises were in tumult. Such rooms as had been completed were dismantled even while the protesting occupants were yet gathering their belongings together, Beds were knocked down, bedding was moved out; windows, door-knobs, hinges, fixtures were removed; dishes, lamps, mirrors, glassware were assembled for packing. Through all this din and clatter the Countess Courteau passed, spurring the wreckers on to speed. Yielding to Phillips' knowledge of transportation problems and limitations, she put him in general charge, and before he realized it he found that he was in reality her first lieutenant. Toward evening a ship arrived and began to belch forth freight and passengers, whereupon there ensued a rush to find shelter. Pierce was engaged in dismantling the office fixtures when a stranger entered and accosted him with the inquiry: "Got any rooms?" "No, sir. We're moving this hotel bodily to Dawson." The new-comer surveyed the littered premises with some curiosity. He was a tall, gray-haired man, with a long, impassive face of peculiar ashen color. He had lost his left hand somewhere above the wrist and in place of it wore a metal hook. With this he gestured stiffly in the direction of a girl who had followed him into the building. "She's got to have a bed," he declared. "I can get along somehow till my stuff is landed to-morrow." "I'm sorry," Pierce told him, "but the beds are all down and the windows are out. I'm afraid nobody could get much sleep here, for we'll be at work all night." "Any other hotels?" "Some bunk-houses. But they're pretty full." "Money no object, I suppose?" the one-armed man ventured. "Oh, none." The stranger turned to his companion. "Looks like we'd have to sit up till our tents come off. I hope they've got chairs in this town." "We can stay aboard the ship." The girl had a pleasant voice--she was, in fact, a pleasant sight to look upon, for her face was quiet and dignified, her eyes were level and gray, she wore a head of wavy chestnut hair combed neatly back beneath a trim hat. Alaska, during the first rush, was a land of pretty women, owing to the fact that a large proportion of those who came North did so for the avowed purpose of trading upon that capital, but even in such company this girl was noticeable and Pierce Phillips regarded her with distinct approval.