Auroras 



was thus rigidly stopped, and now I had to fight for a 

 way back to my cabin, hoping that by good tide luck 

 I might reach it before dark. But at sundown I was 

 less than half-way home, and though very hungry 

 was glad to land on a little rock island with a smooth 

 beach for the canoe and a thicket of alder bushes for 

 fire and bed and a little sleep. But shortly after sun- 

 down, while these arrangements were being made, lo 

 and behold another aurora enriching the heavens! 

 and though it proved to be one of the ordinary al- 

 most colorless kind, thrusting long, quivering lances 

 toward the zenith from a dark cloudlike base, after 

 last night's wonderful display one's expectations 

 might well be extravagant and I lay wide awake 

 watching. 



On the third night I reached my cabin and food. 

 Professor Reid and his party came in to talk over the 

 results of pur excursions, and just as the last one of 

 the visitors opened the door after bidding good-night, 

 he shouted, "Muir, come look here. Here's something 

 fine." 



I ran out in auroral excitement, and sure enough 

 here was another aurora, as novel and wonderful as 

 the marching rainbow-colored columns — a glowing 

 silver bow spanning the Muir Inlet in a magnificent 

 arch right under the zenith, or a little to the south 

 of it, the ends resting on the top of the mountain- 

 walls. And though colorless and steadfast, its in- 

 tense, solid, white splendor, noble proportions, and 

 fineness of finish excited boundless admiration. In 

 form and proportion it was like a rainbow, a bridge of 



[315I 



