It was not until the travelers had reached the camp at the bridge site that all the wonders of this region became apparent.  Then the two girls, in spite of their fatigue, spent the late afternoon sight-seeing.  At this point they were able to gain a comprehensive view; for at their backs lay Jackson Glacier, which they had just passed, and directly fronting them, across a placid lake, was Garfield, even larger and more impressive than its mate.  Thirty, forty miles it ran back, broadening into a frozen sea out of which scarred mountain peaks rose like bleak islands, and on beyond the range of vision was still more ice.

They were surrounded by ragged ramparts.  The Salmon River ran through a broken chalice formed by the encircling hills, and over the rim of the bowl or through its cracks peered other and smaller ice bodies.  The lake at its bottom was filled by as strange a navy as ever sailed the sea; for the ships were bergs, and they followed each other in senseless, ceaseless manoeuvers, towed by the currents which swept through from the cataract at its upper end.  They formed long battle-lines, they assembled into flotillas, they filed about the circumference of a devil’s whirlpool at the foot of the rapids, gyrating, bobbing, bowing until crowded out by the pressure of their rivals.  Some of them were grounded, like hulks defeated in previous encounters, and along the guardian bar which imprisoned them at the outlet of the lake others were huddled, a mass of slowly dissolving wreckage.

O’Neil was helped into camp, and when his boot had been cut away he sent news of his arrival to Dan, who came like an eager bridegroom.

XIV

HOW THE TRUTH CAME TO ELIZA

Appleton found his employer with one foot in a tub of hot water and his lap full of blueprints.  O’Neil explained briefly the condition of affairs down the river.

“I want some one to make that crossing,” he said.

“A volunteer?” asked Dan, with quickened pulses.

“Yes.”

“Will I do?”

“I sent for you to give you the first chance—­you’ve been chafing so at your idleness.  We must have steel laid to this point before snow flies.  Every hour counts.  I daren’t risk Mellen or McKay, for they might be disabled.  I intended to take charge myself, but I won’t be able to walk now for some time.”  He swore a little, and Dan nodded sympathetically.  “I wouldn’t send anybody where I’d refuse to go myself.  You understand?”

“Of course.”

“If either McKay or Mellen were hurt I couldn’t build the bridge, and the bridge must be built.”

“If Gordon stands pat somebody may be—­hurt.”

“I don’t look for anything worse than a few broken heads, but of course I can’t tell.  I’ll stand behind you with my last dollar, no matter what happens.”

Dan laughed.  “As I understand the situation you won’t have a dollar unless we make the crossing.”