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"It was high tide when I came down, and the waves boom-boomed like that, as though it were saying big words down in its chest, you know." "And what were the wild waves saying?" "Oh, big words like " she thought a moment, her small, sunburnt face serious and intent. "Oh, like "Robert of Sicily, Brother of Pope Urbane And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine." she intoned deeply. "You see?"
Overhead the woodpecker knocked insistently, and in the forest depths the partridge boom-boomed and strutted in virile glory. But in all this nervous haste the Yukon took no part. For many a thousand miles it lay cold, unsmiling, dead. Wild fowl, driving up from the south in wind-jamming wedges, halted, looked vainly for open water, and quested dauntlessly on into the north.
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