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For several minutes the ice had been comparatively quiet, (he tide had reached slack water, and the next ten minutes would tell whether or not we would ever Ik4 able to set another tripod on solid ground. Suddenly the ice started a steady forward movement. The rising tide had lifted the key berg from the bar and the floe was breaking through the ramparts. Faster and faster became the movement until without effort on our part Ave were pushed and shoved between the largest bergs. As the pack broke up we found ourselves in open water. Without waiting to heat up the engine Ave grabbed the oars and headed for shore. (On the wrong side of the ice-barrier, but on the shore nevertheless.)
All that long afternoon we stood on the bank and Avatched as the glacier moved down to the sea. With a great boom and crack, a huge berg of thousands of tons would break loose and drop down the face of the four-hundred-foot cliff, sending forth a veritable tidal wave. We waited hours for the tide to get in such a position that Ave dared to take another chance, but late in the evening Ave were able to thread our way out past the bergs and once more reached a broad expanse of open Avater. The schooner never looked better than it did that night.
UP IN T H E A I R
My work for the Educational Pictures Company took me into the mountains of Europe in 1920, the main portion of that year being spent climbing in the Alps of SAvitzerland. One of my companions that season Avas a cameraman Ave shall call George. He knew nothing about the mountains but he spoke excellent English, French, German and Russian, and I used him as an interpreter. His greatest fault Avas his inability to speak the truth in any language. As my linguistic ability is limited to three syllable English, hotel French, and twenty words of Chinook, you can readily understand why I was kept in hot water throughout my stay in Europe.
But one night in Switzerland George talked too much. We were staying at the Kiffelalp, a large hotel several thousand
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