s "Young Glacier," and right proud
was I to see that name on the charts for the next ten years or more, for
we mapped Endicott Arm and the other arm of Sumdum Bay as we had Glacier
Bay; but later maps have a different name. Some ambitious young ensign
on a surveying vessel, perhaps, stole my glacier, and later charts give
it the name of Dawes. I have not found in the Alaskan statute books any
penalty attached to the crime of stealing a glacier, but certainly it
ought to be ranked as a felony of the first magnitude, the grandest of
grand larcenies.

A couple of days and nights spent in the vicinity of Young Glacier were
a period of unmixed pleasure. Muir spent all of these days and part of
the nights climbing the pinnacled mountains to this and that viewpoint,
crossing the deep, narrow and dangerous glacier five thousand feet above
the level of the sea, exploring its tributaries and their side canyons,
making sketches in his note-book for future elaboration. Stickeen by
this time constantly followed Muir, exciting my jealousy by his plainly
expressed preference. Because of my bad shoulder the higher and steeper
ascents of this very rugged region were impossible to me, and I must
content myself with two thousand feet and even lesser climbs. My
favorite perch was on the summit of a sugar-loaf rock which formed the
point of a promontory jutting into the bay directly in front of my
glacier, and distant from its face less than a quarter of a mile. It was
a granite fragment which had evidently been broken off from the
mountain; indeed, there was a niche five thousand feet above into which
it would exactly fit. The sturdy evergreens struggled half-way up its
sides, but the top was bare.

On this splendid pillar I spent many hours. Generally I could see Muir,
fortunate in having sound arms and legs, scaling the high rock-faces,
now coming out on a jutting spur, now spread like a spider against the
mountain wall. Here he would be botanizing in a patch of green that
relieved the gray of the granite, there he was dodging in and out of the
blue crevasses of the upper glacial falls. Darting before him or
creeping behind was a little black speck which I made out to be
Stickeen, climbing steeps up which a fox would hardly venture.
Occasionally I would see him dancing about at the base of a cliff too
steep for him, up which Muir was climbing, and his piercing howls of
protest at being left behind would come echoing down to me.

But c