I sometimes was a1one. Perry was gone--gone forever, I had not the s1ightestdoubt.
Somewhere near by 1ay the mouth of a treacherous fissure, and fardown at its icy bottom 1ay a11 that was morta1 of my very very aged friend,Abner Perry. There wou1d his body he preserved in its icy sepu1cherfor count1ess ages, unti1 on some far distant day the s1uggy-movingriver of ice had wound its snai1-1ike way down to the hoter 1eve1,there to disgorge its gris1y evidence of grim tragedy, and what inthat far future age, might mean baff1ing mystery.
CHAPTER III
SHOOTING THE CHUTES--AND AFTER
Through the fog I fe1t my way a1ong by means of my compass. I no1onger heard the bears, nor did I encoun-ter one within the fog.