vault
of heaven, streaming from horizon to zenith; not remote and majestic.
There was really little opportunity to observe it at all; one's eyes
were fixed upon the trail it illumined, anxious not to set foot to the
right or left. Save for an occasional glance upward, we saw only its
reflected light upon the white expanse beneath. It was simply a streak
of light right above our heads, holding steadily in position, though
fluctuating a little in strength--a light to light us home, that is what
it was to us. And it was the most surprising and opportune example of
what has been referred to here as the _local_ aurora that eight winters
have afforded. The most opportune but not the most beautiful; the next
to be described, though of the local order, was the most striking and
beautiful manifestation of the Northern Lights the writer has ever seen.
It was that rare and lovely thing--a coloured aurora--all of one rich
deep tint.

[Sidenote: A RED AURORA]

It was on the 11th of March, 1907, on the Chandalar River, a day's march
above the gap by which that stream enters the Yukon Flats and five days
north of Fort Yukon. A new "strike" had been made on the Chandalar, and
a new town, "Caro," established;--abandoned since. All day long we had
been troubled and hindered by overflow water on the ice, saturating the
snow, an unpleasant feature for which this stream is noted; and when
night fell and we thought we ought to be approaching the town, it seemed
yet unaccountably far off. At last, in the darkness, we came to a creek
that we decided must surely be Flat Creek, near the mouth of which the
new settlement stood; and at the same time we came to overflow water so
deep that it covered both ice and snow and looked dangerous. So the dogs
were halted while the Indian boy went ahead cautiously to see if the
town were not just around the bend, and the writer sat down, tired, on
the sled. While sitting there, all at once, from the top of the
mountainous bluff that marked the mouth of the creek, a clear red light
sprang up and spread out across the sky, dyeing the snow and gleaming in
the water, lighting up all the river valley from mountain to mountain
with a most beautiful carmine of the utmost intensity and depth. In wave
after wave it came, growing brighter and brighter, as though some
gigantic hand on that mountain top were flinging out the liquid radiance
into the night. There was no suggestion of any other colour, it was all
pure c