THE GREY STIKINE

STIKINE waters ran low between ice-bound banks
as they followed their south-westward path toward
the Pacific Ocean. Low and swift they ran, seething
round boulders and swirling over bars, with patches
of slush-ice here and there upon their troubled
surface. Through great canyons they came, run-
ning dark and treacherous at the base of towering
walls whose high rims stood frowning against a
sullen sky. They threw themselves against barriers
of rock, recoiled, slipped sideways over their slop-
ing bed and crashed down in rapids to find a wider

channel. Mountains closed in upon them, twisting

their course and bringing to them from either side
chattering and turbulent streams to swell their
volume.

The Coast Range stood starkly against that sullen
November sky, its pointed peaks and rounded
mountains whitened with thick, wet snow. The
forests upon its flanks were gaunt and dark, and
down in the valleys a heavy white blanket lay in
thick folds beside the river-banks. Grey glaciers
wound their way heavily from the peaks between

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