"Of course," Milton nodded, "for they had climbed the eastern wall of the canyon and camped near the edge."
"And the one that followed," Scranton added, "on the Cowlitz Glacier. I suppose, Mr. Rhodes, that you have visited Rainier?"
"Many times. Few men, I believe, know the great mountain better than I do—and I never followed in the footsteps of a guide, imported or otherwise, either."
"Then you know the Tamahnowis Rocks in the Cowlitz?"
"I have been there a dozen times."
"Did you ever notice anything unusual at that place?"
"Nothing whatever. I found the ascent of the rocks rather difficult and the crevasses there interesting, but nothing more."
"Well," said Scranton, "it was there that what I am going to read to you now took place. Yes, I know that it was there at the Tamahnowis Rocks, though I never could find anything there. And now, after all these long years, once more it is in that spot that——"
He broke off abruptly and dropped his look to the old record.
Milton Rhodes leaned forward.
"Mr. Scranton," he asked, "what were you going to say?"
Scranton tapped the journal with a forefinger.
"This first," he said. "Then that."
"The story begins to take shape," observed Milton Rhodes—and I wondered what on earth he meant. "Pray proceed."
Whereupon the other raised the book, cleared his throat and started to read to us this astonishing record:
"August 25th.—I was right: the very first thing in the morning the Indian left us. Nothing could induce him to go forward, or even to remain at the camp. The demons of Rainier would get us, said he, if we went on—the terrible tamahnowis that dwelt in the fiery lake on the summit and in the caverns in the mountainside—caverns dark and fiery and horrible as the caves in hell. Had we not had warning? One had come down here, even among the trees, and undoubtedly it would have killed us all had it not been for that angel. He, Sklokoyum, would not go forward a single fpot. He was going to klatawah hyak kopa Steilacoom. How the old fellow begged us to turn back, too! It was quite touching, as was his leave-taking when he finally saw that we were determined to go on. Old Sklokoyum acted as though he was taking leave of the dead—as, indeed, he was! And at last he turned and left us, and in a few minutes he had vanished from sight. How I wish to God now that we had gone back with him!"
At this point, Scranton paused and said: "The Indian was never seen or even heard of again."
The account went on thus:
"Fog disappeared during the night. A fairer morning, I believe, never dawned on Rainier. Sky the softest, loveliest of blues. A few fleecy clouds about the summit of the mountain, but not a single wisp of vapor to be seen anywhere else in all the sky.
"Proceeded to get a good survey of things. From the edge of the canyon, got a fine view clear down the glacier and clear up it, too. Ice here covered with dirt and rock fragments, save for a strip in the middle, showing white and bluish. Badly crevassed. It must have been right about here that Kautz left the glacier. He climbed the cliffs on the other side, and then, the next morning, he started for the top. It seemed to us, however, that the ascent could be made more easily on this side. But we were not headed for the summit; we had a mystery to solve, and we immediately set about doing it.
"We started to trail them—the angel and that thing with the eyes
