ifice of his slaves and the
eager look with which he awaited my answer. When I exclaimed in horror
at his deed of blood he was astonished; he could not understand.

"Why, they were _my_ slaves," he said, "and the man suggested it
himself. He was glad to go to death to help his chief."

A few years after this our missionary at Hoonah had the pleasure of
baptizing this old chief into the Christian faith. He had put away his
slaves and his plural wives, had surrendered the implements of his old
superstition, and as a child embraced the new gospel of peace and love.
He could not get rid of his superstition about the glacier, however, and
about eight years afterwards, visiting at Wrangell, he told me as an
item of news which he expected would greatly please me that, doubtless
as a result of my prayers, Taylor Glacier was receding again and the
salmon beginning to come into that stream.

At intervals during this eventful day I went to the face of the glacier
and even climbed the disintegrating hill that was riding on the
glacier's ploughshare, in an effort to see the bold wanderers; but the
jagged ice peaks of the high glacial rapids blocked my vision, and the
rain driving passionately in horizontal sheets shut out the mountains
and the upper plateau of ice. I could see that it was snowing on the
glacier, and imagined the weariness and peril of dog and man exposed to
the storm in that dangerous region. I could only hope that Muir had not
ventured to face the wind on the glacier, but had contented himself with
tracing its eastern side, and was somewhere in the woods bordering it,
beside a big fire, studying storm and glacier in comparative safety.

When the shadows of evening were added to those of the storm I had my
men gather materials for a big bonfire, and kindle it well out on the
flat, where it could be seen from mountain and glacier. I placed dry
clothing and blankets in the fly tent facing the camp-fire, and got
ready the best supper at my command: clam chowder, fried porpoise, bacon
and beans, "savory meat" made of mountain kid with potatoes, onions,
rice and curry, camp biscuit and coffee, with dessert of wild
strawberries and condensed milk.

It grew pitch-dark before seven, and it was after ten when the dear
wanderers staggered into camp out of the dripping forest. Stickeen did
not bounce in ahead with a bark, as was his custom, but crept silently
to his piece of blanket and curled down, too tired to shake hims