It Was So Badly Weathered And Melted Down That It
Formed A Knife-Edge, And Extended Across From Side To Side In A Low,
Drooping Curve Like That Made By A Loose Rope Attached At Each End At
The Same Height.
But the worst difficulty was that the ends of the
down-curving sliver were attached to the sides at a depth of about
eight or ten feet below the surface of the glacier.
Getting down to
the end of the bridge, and then after crossing it getting up the
other side, seemed hardly possible. However, I decided to dare the
dangers of the fearful sliver rather than to attempt to retrace my
steps. Accordingly I dug a low groove in the rounded edge for my
knees to rest in and, leaning over, began to cut a narrow foothold on
the steep, smooth side. When I was doing this, Stickeen came up
behind me, pushed his head over my shoulder, looked into the
crevasses and along the narrow knife-edge, then turned and looked in
my face, muttering and whining as if trying to say, "Surely you are
not going down there." I said, "Yes, Stickeen, this is the only way."
He then began to cry and ran wildly along the rim of the crevasse,
searching for a better way, then, returning baffled, of course, he
came behind me and lay down and cried louder and louder.
After getting down one step I cautiously stooped and cut another and
another in succession until I reached the point where the sliver was
attached to the wall. There, cautiously balancing, I chipped down the
upcurved end of the bridge until I had formed a small level platform
about a foot wide, then, bending forward, got astride of the end of
the sliver, steadied myself with my knees, then cut off the top of
the sliver, hitching myself forward an inch or two at a time, leaving
it about four inches wide for Stickeen. Arrived at the farther end of
the sliver, which was about seventy-five feet long, I chipped another
little platform on its upcurved end, cautiously rose to my feet, and
with infinite pains cut narrow notch steps and finger-holds in the
wall and finally got safely across. All this dreadful time poor
little Stickeen was crying as if his heart was broken, and when I
called to him in as reassuring a voice as I could muster, he only
cried the louder, as if trying to say that he never, never could get
down there - the only time that the brave little fellow appeared to
know what danger was. After going away as if I was leaving him, he
still howled and cried without venturing to try to follow me.
Returning to the edge of the crevasse, I told him that I must go,
that he could come if he only tried, and finally in despair he
hushed his cries, slid his little feet slowly down into my footsteps
out on the big sliver, walked slowly and cautiously along the sliver
as if holding his breath, while the snow was falling and the wind was
moaning and threatening to blow him off. When he arrived at the foot
of the slope below me, I was kneeling on the brink ready to assist
him in case he should be unable to reach the top. He looked up along
the row of notched steps I had made, as if fixing them in his mind,
then with a nervous spring he whizzed up and passed me out on to the
level ice, and ran and cried and barked and rolled about fairly
hysterical in the sudden revulsion from the depth of despair to
triumphant joy. I tried to catch him and pet him and tell him how
good and brave he was, but he would not be caught. He ran round and
round, swirling like autumn leaves in an eddy, lay down and rolled
head over heels. I told him we still had far to go and that we must
now stop all nonsense and get off the ice before dark. I knew by the
ice-lines that every step was now taking me nearer the shore and soon
it came in sight. The head-land four or five miles back from the
front, covered with spruce trees, loomed faintly but surely through
the mist and light fall of snow not more than two miles away. The ice
now proved good all the way across, and we reached the lateral
moraine just at dusk, then with trembling limbs, now that the danger
was over, we staggered and stumbled down the bouldery edge of the
glacier and got over the dangerous rocks by the cascades while yet a
faint light lingered. We were safe, and then, too, came limp
weariness such as no ordinary work ever produces, however hard it may
be. Wearily we stumbled down through the woods, over logs and brush
and roots, devil's-clubs pricking us at every faint blundering
tumble. At last we got out on the smooth mud slope with only a mile
of slow but sure dragging of weary limbs to camp. The Indians had
been firing guns to guide me and had a fine supper and fire ready,
though fearing they would be compelled to seek us in the morning, a
care not often applied to me. Stickeen and I were too tired to eat
much, and, strange to say, too tired to sleep. Both of us, springing
up in the night again and again, fancied we were still on that
dreadful ice bridge in the shadow of death.
Nevertheless, we arose next morning in newness of life. Never before
had rocks and ice and trees seemed so beautiful and wonderful, even
the cold, biting rainstorm that was blowing seemed full of
loving-kindness, wonderful compensation for all that we had endured,
and we sailed down the bay through the gray, driving rain rejoicing.
Chapter XVI
Glacier Bay
While Stickeen and I were away, a Hoona, one of the head men of the
tribe, paid Mr. Young a visit, and presented him with porpoise-meat
and berries and much interesting information.
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