"Or it might have been made by the glacier. No telling, though, Bill. It might have been real enough and something else. We mustn't forget that for one moment."
"I am not likely to do so. However, what do you make of this?"
"It may be the way to—the way to Drome. And it may, of course, be nothing of the kind. They easily could have vanished into this crevasse."
"And then where could they have gone?"
"Probably the way is blocked by the ice now. Who can say? That overhang down there—"
"Is not an entrance," I told him.
"There may, however, Bill, be something there. It will take us only a moment to find that out."
He turned forthwith and moved along the edge to that spot where the fissure narrowed and it was filled with snow. I followed. A few moments, and we stood at the bottom.
"Great Heaven!" said I as we moved along between those walls of ice.
"What is it, Bill?" queried Milton, pausing and looking back at me.