224 TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 



I shouted, and all the echoes took it up and bandied 

 my voice from one ravine to another. Then Cecily's 

 ringing treble, and the throaty bass of Hunter Gum- 

 midge. 



A fog on these Alaskan slopes can be as dense in 

 its own way as a " London particular," and this one 

 illustrated the fact effectively. We all met at last 

 after bumps and falls innumerable, and together tried 

 to negotiate the return to camp. We had completely 

 lost our bearings, if we ever had any. " This way," 

 said Gummidge, dolorously, but a torrent, dull sound- 

 ing under its coverlet of ice, surged before, and in 

 another instant we should have all been waist deep. 

 This is no game, with waterfalls, ravines and preci- 

 pices on every side. Hither and thither we wandered, 

 falling and scrambling, until I suggested we should 

 call out the other man from camp by firing three 

 times in quick succession. No help arrived, I expect 

 our henchman was asleep over the fire. There was 

 nothing for it but to stay where we were for the time 

 being. We crowded close together the better to with- 

 stand the cold. The minutes dragged by somehow, 

 lengthened into hours, when, even as we meditated 

 on the horrible possibility of being out on the slopes 

 all night, the mist lifted slightly, then rolled down to 

 the valleys below. 



That night was hideously cold, even in the valued 

 shelter of our sleeping bags, and the ever useful parka 

 on top. We wakened to a clear bright atmosphere, 

 and the very sunrise heralded a Red Letter occasion. 

 As the glinting rays smote the lofty peaks with 



