t cannery, and this place did not
correspond in any particular with what he had heard of that.

At length they rounded the last low spur of the ridge, and came upon the
house only a few rods away. For a few moments they stood motionless,
regarding it in silence, and with a bitter disappointment. It was
roughly but substantially constructed of sawed lumber, had a shingled
roof, two glass windows, a heavy door, and a great outside chimney of
rough stone. But it was closed and deserted. No hospitable smoke curled
from its chimney, there was no voice of welcome nor sign of human
presence. Nor was there another building of any kind in sight.

"I suppose we may as well keep on and examine the interior, now that
we've come so far," said Phil, in a disgusted tone that readily betrayed
his feelings. "There doesn't seem to be any one around to prevent us. I
only wish there was."

So they pushed open the door, which was fastened but not locked, and
stepped inside. The cabin contained but a single large room furnished
with several sleeping bunks, a stout table, and a number of seats, all
home-made from unplaned lumber. Much rubbish, including empty bottles
and tin cans, was scattered about; but it was evident that everything of
value had been removed by the last occupants. The chief feature of the
room was an immense and rudely artistic fire-place at its farther end.
Above this hung a smooth board skilfully decorated with charcoal
sketches, and bearing the legend "Camp Muir."

As Serge caught sight of this he uttered an exclamation. "Now I know
where we are!" he cried. "Come with me, Phil, and I will show you one of
the grand sights of the world."

With this he dashed out of the door, and ran toward the beach ridge
behind which the cabin stood. Phil followed, wondering curiously what
his friend could mean. As they reached the low crest of the ridge he
understood; for outspread before him, bathed in a rosy light by the
setting sun, was a spectacle that tourists travel from all parts of the
world to gaze upon.

A precipitous line of ice cliffs of marble whiteness or heavenly blue,
two miles long and hundreds of feet in height, carved into spires,
pinnacles, minarets, and a thousand other fantastic shapes, rose in
frozen majesty at the head of a little bay whose waters washed the beach
at their feet. Ere either of the boys could find words to express his
delight and wonder, a huge mass of the lofty wall broke away and plunged
i