"Impossible," I told him.
He moved along the edge of the crevasse, in the direction of the rocks. I went along after him, my right hand near that pocket which held my revolver.
"And," thought I bitterly to myself, "this is the Twentieth Century!"
"They could," said Rhodes at length, stopping within a few yards of the wall of rock, "have gone into the crevasse at this point. Yes, most certainly they could have done so."
"But where could they have gone to? There is no break in the wall here, not even a crack."
"Don't forget, Bill, that ice moves."
"If that is the explanation, we shall go back no wiser than when we came."
"Let us hope," he returned, "that it doesn't prove the explanation. I have no knowledge as to the rate of the ice-movement here. The Nisqually moves a foot or more a day in summer. The movement here may be very similar, though, on the other hand, there are certain considerations which suggest the possibility that it may be only a few inches per diem."
"It may be so."
"However, Bill, this speculation or surmise will avail us nothing now. So let's give our attention to this other crevasse. And, if it too should reveal nothing—well, there are plenty of others."