"That is why I took my rifle along," replied the grim old mountaineer, as he tugged at the oars.
"Where is your rifle, Mr. Richardson?" inquired Archibald, as the white of his eyes began to show.
"Oh, I prefer a large knife for a close contact. Judge Mellon said we could borrow either of the Indians."
Soon we were in deep water again, where the wild geese and ducks were scooting this way and that to keep out of our way, when Archibald turned his attention to the oarsman, saying, "Say, old man, I suppose we can hire plenty of guides at the hotel to go with us?"
"Guides," grunted the boatsman, "I can find the place myself. Besides, there ain't no hotel there."
"No hotel! Where will we get our breakfast?"
"Plenty of fresh bear meat, sir; they kill them every day."
Soon Archibald turned to me and said: "Really, Mr. Richardson, I am quite chilly now, and if it will be just the same to you I will stay at the landing while our good friend takes you to the glacier, which you are so anxious to see."
"Chilly," ejaculated the old guide. "The sun will soon be up. It rises here now at 2:30 in the morning, and as for staying at the landing is concerned, would you dare stay alone with those Indians?"