The Indians had
gone off picking berries, but were on the watch for me and hailed me
as I approached. The captain had called for me, and, after waiting
three hours, departed for Wrangell without leaving any food, to make
sure, I suppose, of a quick return of his Indians and canoe. This was
no serious matter, however, for the swift current swept us down to
Buck Station, some thirty-five miles distant, by eight o'clock. Here
I remained to study the "Big Stickeen Glacier," but the Indians set
out for Wrangell soon after supper, though I invited them to stay
till morning.
The weather that morning, August 27, was dark and rainy, and I tried
to persuade myself that I ought to rest a day before setting out on
new ice work. But just across the river the "Big Glacier" was staring
me in the face, pouring its majestic flood through a broad mountain
gateway and expanding in the spacious river valley to a width of
four or five miles, while dim in the gray distance loomed its high
mountain fountains. So grand an invitation displayed in characters so
telling was of course irresistible, and body-care and weather-care
vanished.
Mr. Choquette, the keeper of the station, ferried me across the
river, and I spent the day in getting general views and planning
the work that had been long in mind. I first traced the broad,
complicated terminal moraine to its southern extremity, climbed up
the west side along the lateral moraine three or four miles, making
my way now on the glacier, now on the moraine-covered bank, and now
compelled to climb up through the timber and brush in order to pass
some rocky headland, until I reached a point commanding a good
general view of the lower end of the glacier. Heavy, blotting rain
then began to fall, and I retraced my steps, oftentimes stopping to
admire the blue ice-caves into which glad, rejoicing streams from
the mountain-side were hurrying as if going home, while the glacier
seemed to open wide its crystal gateways to welcome them.
The following morning blotting rain was still falling, but time and
work was too precious to mind it. Kind Mr. Choquette put me across
the river in a canoe, with a lot of biscuits his Indian wife had
baked for me and some dried salmon, a little sugar and tea, a
blanket, and a piece of light sheeting for shelter from rain during
the night, all rolled into one bundle.
"When shall I expect you back?" inquired Choquette, when I bade him
good-bye.
"Oh, any time," I replied. "I shall see as much as possible of the
glacier, and I know not how long it will hold me."
"Well, but when will I come to look for you, if anything happens?
Where are you going to try to go?
