IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS 



pretty good time to North Fork Island, our 

 camping place. Harry and I went ahead, hoping 

 to see a moose, caribou or bear. I got a shot at 

 a red fox at seventy-five yards, but punctured 

 only the innocent atmosphere. This shot really 

 belonged to Harry, but in going thru the "after- 

 you-Alphonse" stunt for nearly a minute, with 

 no show of his accepting a shot, I fired. In his 

 usual good-natured way he said I ploughed a 

 furrow in the animal's hair, but I know that the 

 only furrow that was ploughed was thru the 

 aerated liquid enveloping it. 



Next morning was a momentous one, as we 

 were to cross the glacier that day. Harry and I 

 again left ahead of the outfit (at 8:30), following 

 the bed of the White. We came to within a mile 

 or two of the glacier by noon. From the point 

 where we ate our lunch its whitened teeth seemed 

 to gnash defiance at our approach. A study of 

 the great mountain precipices on either side of 

 it showed that the glacier grinds down a veritable 

 gulch gash, tearing up the sides of the canon in 

 its slow but certain descent. 



And here was found much food for reflection 

 on Alaska's great natural wonders, for in that 

 country there are at work many opposing forces 

 of both human and terrestrial nature. Apropos 

 of this is a story told on the boat coming down, 

 namely: "The Frenchman's toast to the Ameri- 

 can cocktail: He put a little lemon in it to sour 

 it, a little sugar in it to sweeten it, a little ice in it 



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