r it
was--the glint o' the sun on the golden larch an' the quakin' aspens;
an' the glister of light on ivery ripple; an' beyand, the winter an'
the blue haze of the North comin' down hand in hand. It's well ye know
the same, with a fringe to the river an' the ice formin' thick in the
eddies--an' a snap an' sparkle to the air, an' ye a-feelin' it through
all yer blood, a-takin' new lease of life with ivery suck of it. 'Tis
then, me boy, the world grows small an' the wandtherlust lays ye by the
heels.

'But it's meself as wandthers. As I was sayin', we a-paddlin', with
niver a sign of ice, barrin' that by the eddies, when the Injun lifts
his paddle an' sings out, "Lon McFane! Look ye below!" So have I heard,
but niver thought to see! As ye know, Sitka Charley, like meself, niver
drew first breath in the land; so the sight was new. Then we drifted,
with a head over ayther side, peerin' down through the sparkly water.
For the world like the days I spint with the pearlers, watchin' the
coral banks a-growin' the same as so many gardens under the sea. There
it was, the anchor-ice, clingin' an' clusterin' to ivery rock, after
the manner of the white coral.

'But the best of the sight was to come. Just after clearin' the tail of
the riffle, the water turns quick the color of milk, an' the top of it
in wee circles, as when the graylin' rise in the spring, or there's a
splatter of wet from the sky. 'Twas the anchor-ice comin' up. To the
right, to the lift, as far as iver a man cud see, the water was covered
with the same.

An' like so much porridge it was, slickin' along the bark of the canoe,
stickin' like glue to the paddles. It's many's the time I shot the
self-same riffle before, and it's many's the time after, but niver a
wink of the same have I seen. 'Twas the sight of a lifetime.' 'Do
tell!' dryly commented Bettles. 'D'ye think I'd b'lieve such a yarn?
I'd ruther say the glister of light'd gone to your eyes, and the snap
of the air to your tongue.' ''Twas me own eyes that beheld it, an' if
Sitka Charley was here, he'd be the lad to back me.' 'But facts is
facts, an' they ain't no gettin' round 'em. It ain't in the nature of
things for the water furtherest away from the air to freeze first.'
'But me own eyes-' 'Don't git het up over it,' admonished Bettles, as
the quick Celtic anger began to mount.

'Then yer not after belavin' me?' 'Sence you're so blamed forehanded
about it, no; I'd b'lieve nature first, and facts.'