A CHROMATIC BEAR HUNT 



we stumbled up through a gorge where all the 

 waters of the Copper River are confined. It 

 is a roaring place, for the waves lift themselves 

 head-high and the ice scuds by with the speed 

 of wild horses. An Arctic twilight was over 

 all that diffusive radiance through which the 

 sight travels so far when we finally rounded 

 a bend into an eddy, and paused to breathe 

 and to observe that Thing which loomed 

 suddenly before us. 



I hope never to lose the memory of that first 

 impression. There was Childs Glacier at last, 

 with the ravenous river gnawing at it, a tower- 

 ing wall of solid ice, serrated and seamed, the 

 dead gray ness of infinite age upon its face. 

 And so close ! We fairly felt its presence before 

 we sensed the chill breath which swept down 

 from it. There were no intervening miles to 

 rob it of its grandeur; its very proximity was 

 terrifying, it was so strange, so unknown, so 

 lifeless, and yet so menacing. 



We heard ourselves exclaiming, but our 

 spoken words were a profanation in such a 

 presence. 



A great berg, an acre in extent, came swiftly 

 towards us, the saffron waters licking at its 

 sides. It was as blue as a summer sky, and 



8s 



