"It certainly is queer. What makes glaciers, daddy?" Ted was even more
interested than usual in his father's talk because of Kalitan, whose dark
eyes never left Mr. Strong's face, and who seemed to drink in every word
of information as eagerly as a thirsty bird drinks water.

"The dictionaries tell you that glaciers are fields of ice, or snow and
ice, formed in the regions of perpetual snow, and moving slowly down the
mountain slopes or valleys. Many people say the glaciers are the fathers
of the icebergs which float at sea, and that these are broken off the
glacial stream, but others deny this. When the glacial ice and snow
reaches a point where the air is so warm that the ice melts as fast as it
is pushed down from above, the glacier ends and a river begins. These are
the finest glaciers in the world, except, perhaps, those of the
Himalayas.

"This bids fair to be a wonderfully interesting place for my work, Ted,
and I'm glad you're likely to be satisfied with your new friends, for I
shall have to go to many places and do a lot of things less interesting
than the things Kalitan can show you.

"See these blocks of fine marble and those superb masses of porphyry and
chalcedony,--but there's something which will interest you more. Take my
gun and see if you can't bring down a bird for supper."

Wild ducks were flying low across the edge of the glacier and quite near
to the boys, and Ted grasped his father's gun in wild excitement. He was
never allowed to touch a gun at home. Dearly as he loved his mother, it
had always seemed very strange to him that she should show such poor
taste about firearms, and refuse to let him have any; and now that he had
a gun really in his hands, he could hardly hold it, he was so excited. Of
course it was not the first time, for his father had allowed him to
practise shooting at a mark ever since they had reached Alaska, but this
was the first time he had tried to shoot a living target. He selected
his duck, aimed quickly, and fired. Bang! Off went the gun, and, wonder
of wonders! two ducks fell instead of one.

"Well done, Ted, that duck was twins," cried his father, laughing, almost
as excited as the boy himself, and they ran to pick up the birds. Kalitan
smiled, too, and quietly picked up one, saying:

"This one Kalitan's," showing, as he spoke, his arrow through the bird's
side, for he had discharged an arrow as Ted fired his gun.

"Too bad, Ted. I thought you were a mighty hunter