Bits of ice dropped about me. I suddenly
remembered a number of things I wanted to do outside, I turned and
sought the guarded cavern of the ghastly light. I mistook the way and
turned aside into a blind alley for a moment. I grew panicky--my flesh
went clammy--but that momentary delay no doubt saved my life. As I
reached the opening, there came a rending crash, a splintering of ice,
and broken blocks came hurtling into the crevasse just outside my
cavern door. An inrush of air snuffed out my candle.

My hands trembled as I relighted the candle. Ice still bombarded the
opening. Somewhere water splashed. Before I had descended into the
crevasse I had been perspiring freely, for the sun shone hot upon the
surface of the glacier; now I was shivering, my feet were soaked with
ice water, a dozen little streams trickled down from the cavern roof.
I would soon be warm in the hot sun outside; then... I discovered the
crevasse was blocked with ice.

I lost my head and shouted for help. There were none to hear. I
pushed against the barriers. I pulled myself together and began to
search for a passage among the blocks of ice. The candle gave a feeble
light. Without waiting to feel my way, I edged into a crack, wriggled
forward and stuck tight. Cold sweat oozed as I wiggled backward into
the cavern again. I had difficulty relighting the candle. Again and
again I attempted to squeeze out among the pieces of broken ice; I
climbed up the smooth wall, lost my footing and tumbled back. At last
I found a larger opening among the ice blocks and squeezed into it like
a rabbit into a rock pile. I knew I must hurry because these jumbled
pieces would soon be solidly cemented together when the water pouring
over them froze.

I surged desperately against the pressing ice, held my breath and
squeezed my way through into the sunshine at last--safe. Late that
evening I reached my camp, my interest in glaciers chilled.

Since that experience I have usually looked long before leaping into a
crevasse and then have not leaped.

The next morning I broke camp. I had had enough of close-ups of
glaciers. I followed the crest of the Continental Divide northward,
satisfied with such distant views of those treacherous juggernauts as
could be had from the rim rocks.

That was how I came to be camped at timberline above Allen's Park when
the big forest fire set the region south of it ablaze. From my lofty
station I watched a thunde