t a handsome pair of antlers," said Rand, who was something of a
naturalist.

"Best head I ever see," said the guide. "I'd be glad to make ye a present
of it if there was any chance of yer gettin' it out of Alaska at this
season. However, we'll take it back to Seward and maybe Colonel Snow can
find some way to do it."

By this time two of the Indians had cut the carcass up, while the others
had built a hot fire. Several steaks were cut off and roasted before the
flames under the guide's direction for the boys' breakfast, and they found
the meat juicy and palatable. Then the Indians turned to and had their
"feast." They partially roasted the flesh in great chunks, and for an hour
gorged themselves like starving men just escaped from the desert.

"T-t-hey won't be able to walk," commented Pepper, after gazing at the
gastronomic feat that put any of his previous efforts in the shade.

"Let 'em alone fer that," said the guide, "I never in my life see anything
that could carry a bigger cargo of grub, and do a day's work than a
Siwash. I s'pose it's because starvation's got ter be a regeler perfession
with 'em. They can lay in food like a camel does water, and then go fer
days without it."

The Indians, having packed some of the meat for the next day, cut the rest
into thin strips, and with the caribou's head, hung them to the branches
of trees out of reach of bears, to be called for on their return. The
riding horses were also turned loose, in a broad meadow to stay until the
return, and nothing but the pack animals taken.

Their morning journey carried them higher and higher into the foothills of
the Kenai range, and the trail became more rugged. About nine o'clock the
Indians began to show some eagerness and excitement, and the chief told
the guide that they would soon sight the peaks. Finally, the Siwashes ran
ahead to the top of a sharp rise and excitedly beckoned. The boys joined
them, and as they reached the summit of the ridge a peculiar scene met
their gaze.

The other side of the ridge sloped sharply for nearly two hundred feet to
a valley nearly half a mile wide, paved with gravel and boulders, and as
bald of vegetation as a desert. The rocks on the slope of the ridge and
along the sides of this wide shallow ravine were cut as sharply and worn
as smooth as if the stone cutter's chisel had shaped their surfaces.

A quarter of a mile distant, and almost in the middle of the valley stood
an immense obelisk of