"Well, as I told you, I tied another string to the rope. After Tad got
to sleep I pulled the rope. He went out to see what had done it. I guess
he didn't find it, for he went out several times after that. Oh, I made
him dance a merry dance," chuckled Stacy. "By and by I went to sleep.
That was the last I knew until I found myself sliding out of the tent on
my back."

Everyone shouted. Stacy's droll way of telling the story was too much
for them.

"So that was the way of it, eh?" questioned Ned.

"So Stacy says," nodded Butler.

"And you didn't mean to drag me out?"

"No; the fellow who did the dragging must have gotten hold of the wrong
foot," replied Butler.

"Then I forgive you. I would endure almost anything for the sake of
seeing Chunky get the worst of it."

"Well, I like that!" shouted the fat boy. "I'm glad that you, too, got
some of the worst of it. Why didn't you tie the rope around his neck
while you were about it, Tad, and make a thorough job of it?"

Nevertheless, Stacy was set upon having his revenge on Tad, even though
he was himself to blame for the trick that had been played on him. The
sun shone over the camp of the Pony Rider Boys a few hours later, and
the rough hike was again taken up. It was the middle of the fifth day
after the roping experience when the boys first caught sight of Yakutat
Bay. Huge cakes of floating ice were being thrown up into the air by the
strong gale that swept in from the Pacific, the whitened ice in strong
contrast with the black sands of the beach.

Towering above it all, nearly five miles in the air, stood Mt. St. Elias
glistening in the mid-day sun. Rushing streams roared down the sides of
the mountain, thundering through deep gorges cut into the rocks through
perhaps thousands of years of wear. It was a tremendous spectacle,
exceeding in impressiveness anything the boys had ever looked upon.

At their feet lay the wreck of the rude cabins of the early Thlinkit
Indians. There was no sign of any other village. The masts of a few
small schooners were visible on the southern side of the bay. It was in
this part of the waters that ships came to anchor. Here they were not
exposed to the heavy swell from the Pacific, being sheltered by islands
on the southern side.

An Indian wrapped in a gaudy blanket went striding stolidly past the
Pony Rider party.

"Will you tell us where the town is?" called Tad.

Without looking at the questioner, the Indian pointed up