a foreign power, whose hand might easily
prove an arbitrary one. Restlessly they agitated the question at their
miners' meetings, with a dim hope that some solution of the trouble
would present itself, and ultimately they would be left in the happy
possession of properties for which they had endured strenuous hardships
and from which they would only part when compelled.

From the channel called Portland on the south, along the coast to the
pinnacles of St. Elias, ten marine leagues were supposed from time
immemorial to be defined; neither the channel, the salt water line, nor
the mountain's top having been materially changed as to configuration.
From Mt. Elias a perpendicular line to the Frozen Ocean farther outlined
the boundary between the two nations, this not being included, however,
in the debatable country at this time.

The question, then, before the miners, resolved itself into one
peculiarly simple. It was this: Had the line of demarcation been
successfully deflected in order to include the natural seaports of such
increased importance since the gold discoveries in the Klondyke? and if
so, how? The line was far from being imaginary. In the long, long ago in
certain places natural landmarks had been made use of by the Russians,
but where they were not available monuments of stone had been erected at
intervals, and these built in solid masonry had withstood the
encroachments of the elements for more than fifty years.

An old stone monument house built by the Russians almost a century
before was yet to be discovered by those of the "ten leagues" theory,
and it must be searched for, but where, and by whom? If this could be
found the authenticity of the old boundary line would be established,
and those in authority could place their hands without hesitation upon
proof which must be decisive.

Finally, one beautiful day in summer, a miners' meeting was called, and
the Rainy Hollow men assembled to decide what they could do to assist
the government to put an end to the matter forever.

A burly, old-time miner and pioneer called "Dick Dead-eye" by his
fellows, was made chairman of the meeting. This name was given him
because he was a good marksman, having an eye which seldom failed him in
taking aim with a gun. He was seconded by a stranger, who, having a
keen, quick glance and well knit figure dressed appropriately in
leathern trousers and leggings, sat at the chairman's right and
evidently "meant business", as