diaphanous ribbons, became stained with mottled dyes. Against the
horizon, the arctic armada of eternally moving icebergs drifted slowly
southward and, like the spectral ships of the long dead Norsemen who
had braved these regions, flaunted the semblance of silver-gleaming
sails. The sea rose in great green emerald swells, the wave crests
broke in seething curls of silver foam, and in the troughs of
descending waters glittered cascades of celestial jewels. It was late
summer--the hour, midnight.

The keen eyes of the natives searched the seas.

To the south of where the watchers were gathered, the glacial heels of
the inland mountains step precipitously into the sea and rise to a
height of several thousand feet. At the base of these iron rocks,
corroded with the rust of interminable ages, the fragments of great
floes, like catapults, are tossed by the inrushing sea. Above, in
summertime, rises and falls constantly a black mist resembling shifting
cloud smoke. Millions of auks swarm from their moss-ensconced grottos;
an oppressive clamor beats the air. Along the ocean, where crevices of
the descending iron-chiselled cliffs are fugitively green with ribbons
of pale grass, downy-winged ducks purr, mating guillemots coo
incessantly, and tremulous oogzooks chirrup joyously to their young.

As the natives listened, a deep nasal bellowing from the far ocean
trembled in the air.

Not a man stirred. The sound vibrated into silence. The auks
screamed. Hawks shrilled. From the far interior valleys came the
echoed wolf-howling of Eskimo dogs. There the mountain tops,
perpetually covered with ice and snow, gleamed through the clouds with