We managed to push the
canoe several miles up the stream that drains the glacier to a point
where the swift current was divided among rocks and the banks were
overhung with alders and willows. I left the canoe and pushed up the
right bank past a magnificent waterfall some twelve hundred feet
high, and over the shoulder of a mountain, until I secured a good
view of the lower part of the glacier. It is probably a lobe of the
Taylor Bay or Brady Glacier.
On our return to camp, thoroughly drenched and cold, the old chief
came to visit us, apparently as wet and cold as ourselves.
"I have been thinking of you all day," he said, "and pitying you,
knowing how miserable you were, and as soon as I saw your canoe
coming back I was ashamed to think that I had been sitting warm and
dry at my fire while you were out in the storm; therefore I made
haste to strip off my dry clothing and put on these wet rags to share
your misery and show how much I love you."
I had another long talk with Ka-hood-oo-shough the next day.
"I am not able," he said, "to tell you how much good your words have
done me.
