CHAPTER XIV 



"On a mountain top where biting cold would never let 

 grass grow." 



INDESCRIBABLE with pen and ink or 

 with camera are the great glaciers of the 

 North Land. When we first crossed the 

 divide which parted the watershed on which 

 we had been hunting for many days from the 

 glacier-fed stream across the range, we stood 

 looking away off at Nazarhat Nazarhat the 

 glacier, Nazarhat the mysterious, Nazarhat 

 the creator of strange superstitions and strange 

 terrors among the Indians of the Ashiack 

 tribe. 



Our first sight of this notable glacier gave 

 us the impression of an enormous deep bowl 

 made of solid ice and running water. The 

 moraine that was tributary to it was said to be 

 seven miles long and from two to three miles 

 broad. The dust of ages had settled upon 

 this moraine, and vegetation was flourishing 

 upon the scanty soil, covering the stately 



