〃No； the proper name； Doug；〃
〃That narrows it down to a few million guys；〃 Zavala said wearily。
〃Yeah； I know； I had the same reaction until I read the rest： All it needs is a corn cob pipe to look like old Eagle Beak。〃
〃Douglas MacArthur。 Who could forget that profile？〃
〃Especially someone who had e out of the Big War。 In addition； Nome is only one hundred and sixty one miles from Russia。 I thought it was worth ordering up some satellite pictures。 While you snoozed your way over the continental United States； I was going over the photos with a magnifying glass。〃
He handed the satellite views to Zavala； who examined them for a few minutes and shook his head。 〃I don't see anything that resembles an eagle's beak。〃
〃I didn't find one； either。 I told you it wasn't going to be easy。〃
They were still going over the photos and map when the NUMA pilot announced that the plane was starting its de scent to Nome Airport。 They gathered their gear in a couple of bags and were ready when the plane rolled to a stop on the tarmac of the small but modern airport。 A taxi took them to town along one of Nome's three two…lane gravel roads。 The bright sun did little to relieve the monotonous terrain of flat； treeless tundra； although the Kigluaik Mountains could be seen in the distance。 The cab took them onto Front Street； which bordered the blue…gray waters of the Bering Sea； past the turn…of…the…century city hall； terminus for the Iditarod dogsled race； dropping them off at the barge port and fishing harbor where their leased float plane awaited with a full tank of fuel。
Zavala was more than pleased with the plane； a single…engine Maule M…7 with short takeoff and landing capability。 While Joe checked out the plane Austin picked up some sandwiches and coffee at Fat Freddie's diner。 They were traveling light。 They brought clothing mostly； although Austin had packed his trusty Bowen revolver。 Zavala had brought along an Ingram machine pistol capable of firing hundreds of rounds a minute。 When Austin asked why he needed such lethal firepower in the desolate northland； Zavala had muttered something about grizzly bears。
With Zavala at the controls the Maule headed northeasterly along the coast。 The plane stayed low； cruising at a hundred and seventy…five miles per hour。 The day was cloudy but with none of the rain the Nome area is noted for。 They quickly settled into a routine。 Austin called out a promising…looking piece of real estate； and Zavala circled it a couple of times。 Austin pencil…shaded the areas they covered on his map。 Their excitement at being on the hunt quickly faded as the plane droned over mile after mile of ragged coastline。 The barren land was broken only by lacy rivers and shallow ponds created by melted snow。
Austin kept them amused by reciting poems of Robert Ser vice which Zavala translated into Spanish。 But even 〃The Shooting of Dan McGrew〃 didn't dull the monotony of their quest。 Zavala's usual good humor was beginning to wear。 〃We've seen parrot beaks； pigeon beaks； and even a turtle beak； but no eagle；〃 he grumbled。
Austin studied the shaded portions of his map。 A substantial amount of coastline had yet to be covered。
〃We've still got a lot of territory to check out。 I'd like to keep on going。 How are you doing？〃
〃I'm fine； but the plane is going to need fuel before long。〃
〃We passed what looked like a fishing camp a short while back。 How about breaking for lunch while we tank up old Betsy here？〃
Zavala responded by putting the plane into a banking circle。 Before long they picked up the river they had flown over earlier and followed it for about ten minutes until they sighted a cluster of plywood shacks。 Two float planes were tied up in the river。 Zavala scoped out a straight stretch of water。 He brought the plane down； skimmed the surface in a near perfect landing； and taxied the plane up to a weather…beaten pier。 A stocky young man with a face as round as a full moon saw them ing and threw out a mooring line。
〃Wele to Tinook Village； population one hundred and sixty…seven； most of them related；〃 he said with a smile as dazzling as sunlight on new snow。 〃My name is Mike Tinook。〃
Tinook didn't appear surprised to have a couple of strangers drop out of the sky to visit his remote village。 With vast distances to cover Alaskans will fly a hundred miles just to have breakfast。 Perhaps it has something to do with the scarcity of human contact outside Anchorage； but most Alaskans spin out their stories about how they came north within five minutes of making an acquaintance。 Mike related how he grew up in the village； worked as an airplane mechanic in Anchorage； and came back home to stay。
Austin explained they were with the National Underwater & Marine Agency。
〃Had you figured for some kind of government guys；〃 Tinook said knowingly。 〃Too clean for oil men or hunters and too sure of yourselves to be tourists。 We had a NUMA team drop by a few years ago。 They were doing research in the Chukchi Sea。 What brings you to the Land of the Midnight Sun？〃
〃We're doing sort of a geological survey； but I must confess that we're not having much success；〃 Austin said。 〃We're looking for a point of land that sticks out into the water。 It's shaped like an eagle's beak。〃
Tinook shook his head。 〃That's my plane out there。 I do a lot of flying when I'm not fishing or helping to tend the reindeer herd； but it doesn't ring a bell。 C'mon up to the store。 We can look at a map。〃 They climbed a rickety staircase to the plywood building。 It was the typical Alaskan general store； a bination of grocery； pharmaceutical； hardware； gift shop； and wilderness outfitter。 Customers could take their pick from insect repellent； canned goods； snowmobile replacement parts； and TV videos。
Tinook checked a wall map of the area。 〃Nope。 Nothing like an eagle's beak。〃 He scratched his head。 〃Maybe you should talk to Clarence。〃
〃Clarence？〃
〃Yeah； my grandfather。 He used to get around a lot and likes visitors。〃
Austin's eyes glazed over。 He was impatient to get in the air again。 He was trying to think of a diplomatic way to put Tinook off without hurting his feelings； when he noticed a rifle hung on the wall behind the counter。 He walked over for a closer look。 It was a Carbine Ml； the workhorse rifle carried by American infantrymen in World War II。 He had seen M1's before； but this was in exceptionally mint condition。
〃Is that your rifle？〃 he asked Tinook。
〃My grandfather gave it to me； but I use my own gun for hunting。 That thing has got quite a story behind it。 Sure you wouldn't want to talk to Clarence？ Might be worth your while。〃
Zavala saw Austin's newfound interest。 〃I wouldn't mind stretching my legs for a while longer。 At least we don't have to worry about getting home before dark。〃
Joe's point was well taken。 Daylight was more than twenty two hours long； and even after the sun set； technically； night was only a short period of dusk。
Mike guided them along a muddy street past more shacks； gangs of round…faced children； sleeping huskies； and racks where crimson strips of salmon dried in the sun。 He went up to the door of a shack smaller than the others and knocked。 Someone inside told them to e in。 They stepped into the one…room house。 It smelled of wood smoke and something meaty cooking on a camp stove。 The house was sparsely furnished with a bunk bed in one corner and a table covered with a red…and…white checkered oilcloth。 A man who looked as old as a glacier sat at the table carefully painting a wooden polar bear figure about six inches high。 Several others figures of wolves and eagles had been painted and lined up。
〃Grandpa； these men would like to hear the story about your rifle。〃
Dark Oriental eyes sparkled with intelligence and good humor from a face creased in a thousand wrinkles。 Clarence wore dark…framed glasses； and his thick silvery hair was neatly parted on one side。 His mouth widened in a grin that seemed to take over his whole jaw。 Although he must have been in his eighties； he shook hands in a bone…crunching grip and looked as if he could still wrestle a sea lion to the floor。 Yet the voice that should have been amplified by the powerful frame was as soft as wind…blown snow。
His grandson said； 〃I have to go back to the shop。 I'll have the plane refueled by the time you get back。〃
〃I make these for the gift shops in Anchorage；〃 the old man said； putting the polar bear and paints aside。 〃Glad you dropped by。 You're just in time for lunch。〃 He indicated a couple of rickety chairs； and； refusing the protests of his guests； he spooned the stew from the stove pot into some chipped willow…pattern china bowls。 He took a big spoonful as if to show there was no harm in his cooking。 〃How is it？〃
Austin and Zavala tentatively sampled the stew and pronounced it quite good。
The old man beamed with pleasure。
〃Is it caribou？〃 Zavala asked。
The old man reached into a trash bucket and pulled out a can of Dinty Moore beef stew。
〃Mike's a good boy；〃 Clarence said。 〃He and his wife buy me stuff so I won't