I got him to the little brook and poked his head into the icy water,
and after a while he sat up pluckily.

To an indignant question he replied: "Naw, I ain't a-cussin' you.
Lemme be or I'll have fits."

"Was it that sound that scared you?" I asked.

"Ya-as," he replied with a dauntless shiver.

"Was it the voice of the mammoth?" I persisted, excitedly. "Speak,
William, or I'll drag you about and kick you!"

He replied that it was neither a mammoth nor a dingue, and added a
strong request for privacy, which I was obliged to grant, as I could
not torture another word out of him.

I slept little that night; the exciting proximity of the unknown land
was too much for me. But although I lay awake for hours, I heard
nothing except the tinkle of water among the rocks and the plover
calling from some hidden marsh. At daybreak I shot a ptarmigan which
had walked into camp, and the shot set the echoes yelling among the
mountains.

William, sullen and heavy-eyed, dressed the bird, and we broiled it
for breakfast.

Neither he nor I alluded to the sound we had heard the night before;
he boiled water and cleaned up the mess-kit, and I pottered about