"We listened. Not a sound. Suddenly the glacier cracked and boomed, then silence again. We waited, listening. Still not the faintest sound. Long, so White and I decided, must have been deceived. But Long declared that he had not.
"'I heard voices, I tell you! I know that I was not mistaken at all. I heard voices.'
"Again we listened.
"'There!' Long said suddenly. 'Hear them?'
"Yes, there, coming to us from out of the fog, were voices, plain, unmistakable, and yet at the same time—how shall I say it?—strangely muffled. Yes, that is the word, muffled. I wondered if the fog did that; but it couldn't, I decided, be the fog. One voice was silvery and strong, that of Sklokoyum's angel doubtless; the other deep and rough, the voice of a man. The woman (or girl) seemed to be urging something, pleading with him. Once we thought that there came a third voice, but we could not be sure of that. But of one thing we were sure: they were not speaking in English, in Spanish, French, Siwash or Chinook. And we felt certain, too, that it was not Scandinavian, German or Italian.
"'They are over there,' said Long, pointing. 'I am sure of it.'
"'No, there!' whispered White.
"For my part, I was convinced that these mysterious beings were in still a different direction!
"'Well,' I suggested, 'let's be moving. We won't get the solution of this queer business by standing here and wondering.'
"We got in motion, uncertain, though, whether we were really advancing in the right direction; but we could not, I thought, be greatly in error. Soon we came to a great crevasse. White leaped across it, and on that instant the voices ceased.