"There Is Your Lost Friend," Said The Indians Laughing; "He Says,
'Sagh-A-Ya'" (How Do You Do)?
And while berg after berg was being
born with thundering uproar, Tyeen said, "Your friend has klosh
tumtum (good heart).
Hear! Like the other big-hearted one he is
firing his guns in your honor."
I stayed only long enough to make an outline sketch, and then urged
the Indians to hasten back some six miles to the mouth of a side
canyon I had noted on the way up as a place where we might camp in
case we should not find a better. After dark we had to move with
great caution through the ice. One of the Indians was stationed in
the bow with a pole to push aside the smaller fragments and look out
for the most promising openings, through which he guided us,
shouting, "Friday! Tucktay!" (shoreward, seaward) about ten times a
minute. We reached this landing-place after ten o'clock, guided in
the darkness by the roar of a glacier torrent. The ground was all
boulders and it was hard to find a place among them, however small,
to lie on. The Indians anchored the canoe well out from the shore and
passed the night in it to guard against berg-waves and drifting
waves, after assisting me to set my tent in some sort of way among
the stones well back beyond the reach of the tide. I asked them as
they were returning to the canoe if they were not going to eat
something.
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