d out from the unknown country like a river, and I
thought then, and think now, that when the glacier was blown into
vapor the vapor descended in the most terrific rain the world has ever
seen, and poured through the newly blasted mountain-gateway, sweeping
the earth to bed-rock. To corroborate this theory, miles to the
southward I could see the debris winding out across the land towards
Wellman Bay, but as the terminal moraine of the vanished glacier
formerly ended there I could not be certain that my theory was
correct. Owing to the formation of the mountains I could not see more
than half a mile into the unknown country. What I could see appeared
to be nothing but the continuation of the glacier's path, scored out
by the cloud-burst, and swept as smooth as a floor.

Sitting there, my heart beating heavily with excitement, I looked
through the evening glow at the endless, pine-crowned mountain-wall
with its giant's gateway pierced for me! And I thought of all the
explorers and the unknown heroes--trappers, Indians, humble
naturalists, perhaps--who had attempted to scale that sheer barricade
and had died there or failed, beaten back from those eternal cliffs.
Eternal? No! For the Eternal Himself had struck the rock, and it had
sprung asunder, thundering obedience.

In the still evening air the smoke from the fire below mounted in a
straight, slender pillar, like the smoke from those ancient altars
builded before the first blood had been shed on earth.

The evening wind stirred the pines; a tiny spring brook made thin
harmony among the rocks; a murmur came from the quiet camp. It was
William adjuring his mules. In the deepening twilight I descended the
hillock, stepping cautiously among the rocks.

Then, suddenly, as I stood outside the reddening ring of firelight,
far in the depths of the unknown country, far behind the
mountain-wall, a sound grew on the quiet air. William heard it and
turned his face to the mountains. The sound faded to a vibration which
was felt, not heard. Then once more I began to divine a vibration in
the air, gathering in distant volume until it became a sound, lasting
the space of a spoken word, fading to vibration, then silence.

Was it a cry?

I looked at William inquiringly. He had quietly fainted away.

I got him to the little brook and poked his head into the icy water,
and after a while he sat up pluckily.

To an indignant question he replied: "Naw, I ain't a-cussin' you.
Lemme b