'The Stickeen Glaciers 



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 shel- 

 ter from rain during the night, all rolled into one 

 bundle. 



"When shall I expect you back?" inquired Cho- 

 quette, 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 any- 

 thing happens? Where are you going to try to go? 

 Years ago Russian officers from Sitka went up the 

 glacier from here and none ever returned. It's a 

 mighty dangerous glacier, all full of damn deep holes 

 and cracks. You've no idea what ticklish deceiving 

 traps are scattered over it." 



"Yes, I have," I said. "I have seen glaciers before, 

 though none so big as this one. Do not look for 

 me until I make my appearance on the river-bank. 

 Never mind me. I am used to caring for myself." 

 And so, shouldering my bundle, I trudged off through 

 the moraine boulders and thickets. 



My general plan was to trace the terminal moraine 

 to its extreme north end, pitch my little tent, leave 

 the blanket and most of the hardtack, and from this 

 main camp go and come as hunger required or al- 

 lowed. 



After examining a cross-section of the broad mo- 

 raine, roughened by concentric masses, marking inter- 

 ruptions in the recession of the glacier of perhaps 



[ 105 1 



