My Sled- 'Trip on the Muir Glacier 



going to have a feast. But as they stared at me, study- 

 ing my condition, impatiently waiting for bone-pick- 

 ing time, I saw what they were up to and shouted, 

 "Not yet, not yet!" 



July 16. At 7 A.M. I left camp to cross the main 

 glacier. Six ravens came to the camp as soon as I 

 left. What wonderful eyes they must have ! Nothing 

 that moves in all this icy wilderness escapes the eyes 

 of these brave birds. This is one of the loveliest morn- 

 ings I ever saw in Alaska; not a cloud or faintest hint 

 of one in all the wide sky. There is a yellowish haze 

 in the east, white in the west, mild and mellow as a 

 Wisconsin Indian Summer, but finer, more ethereal, 

 God's holy light making all divine. 



In an hour or so I came to the confluence of the 

 first of the seven grand tributaries of the main Muir 

 Glacier and had a glorious view of it as it comes 

 sweeping down in wild cascades from its magnificent, 

 pure white, mountain-girt basin to join the main 

 crystal sea, its many fountain peaks, clustered and 

 crowded, all pouring forth their tribute to swell its 

 grand current. I crossed its front a little below its 

 confluence, where its shattered current, about two or 

 three miles wide, is reunited, and many rills and good- 

 sized brooks glide gurgling and ringing in pure blue 

 channels, giving delightful animation to the icy 

 solitude. 



Most of the ice-surface crossed to-day has been very 

 uneven, and hauling the sled and finding a way over 

 hummocks has been fatiguing. At times I had to lift 



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