Auroras 



to an open sandy spot on which I had camped in 

 October, 1879, a distance of about three or four 

 miles. 



With the utmost caution I picked my way through 

 the sparkling bergs, and after an hour or two of this 

 nerve-trying work, when I was perhaps less than half- 

 way across and dreading the loss of the frail canoe 

 which would include the loss of myself, I came to a 

 pack of very large bergs which loomed threateningly, 

 offering no visible thoroughfare. Paddling and push- 

 ing to right and left, I at last discovered a sheer- 

 walled opening about four feet wide and perhaps two 

 hundred feet long, formed apparently by the splitting 

 of a huge iceberg. I hesitated to enter this passage, 

 fearing that the slightest change in the tide-current 

 might close it, but ventured nevertheless, judging 

 that the dangers ahead might not be greater than 

 those I had already passed. When I had got about a 

 third of the way in, I suddenly discovered that the 

 smooth-walled ice-lane was growing narrower, and 

 with desperate haste backed out. Just as the bow of 

 the canoe cleared the sheer walls they came together 

 with a growling crunch. Terror-stricken, I turned 

 back, and in an anxious hour or two gladly reached 

 the rock-bound shore that had at first repelled me, 

 determined to stay on guard all night in the canoe or 

 find some place where with the strength that comes 

 in a fight for life I could drag it up the boulder wall 

 beyond ice danger. This at last was happily done 

 about midnight, and with no thought of sleep I went 

 to bed rejoicing. 



[313] 



