I said nothing. The sergeant understood. We were fortunate to have made it so far without one of us falling into the Wolverine. He would backtrack half a mile, perhaps farther, before finding a safe route.
We would leave the dog to its own devices. I advised that we should walk away quickly, ignoring the animal so that it would not try to follow us directly. Its best hope, if it has the intelligence, is to retrace its own steps down the river.
As we turned our backs, the dog let out a long howl.
The woman turned her back on us & made as if to walk downriver.
?—?I think she’s going to help Boyo, Tillman said.
It is too dangerous, I told her. She should remain with us.
?—?Boyo, she said, pointed towards the dog.
I stepped forward to take her arm. Her look was quick & alarmed, then angry. But she did as told & walked with us back to join the others.
We explained what had happened, that we had lost the dog, but I had ordered the girl to remain with us.
?—?Wouldn’t have thought she would listen to you, Samuelson said, & I agreed.
The journey through the canyon stretched on through hours. Occasionally the cliffs would offer up a small alcove or a tumble of rocks that met the shore. But for that, the canyon walls were absolutely vertical & unbroken.
Tillman asked more times than he ought how far we had come.
Two miles. Three. Not quite four. Pruitt did his best to estimate each time Tillman asked.
?—?Makes no difference how far we’ve come, Samuelson finally grumbled. —?Only how far we have to go, & not one of us can tell you that.
Tillman stopped with his question.
It was disquieting when dusk arrived & still there was no sign of an end to the canyon.
The trapper said we would soon lose our light. We had best set camp at the next heap of rocks we found. At least it would get us off the ice for the night.
?—& try to sleep in this deathtrap? Tillman asked.
Just as cold night closed in on us, we found a bay in the cliff. When the Wolverine flows, I suspect water eddies in a deep pool here, but now it provided us with large blocks of slate which we could climb upon & set camp. There was no comfort?—?no campfire, no forgiving ground, no way to sleep but hunched against the rocks. I worried for Boyd, thin & weak. He shivered in the cold. The Indian woman crouched atop one of the higher rocks, as if she watched for something on the river.
Through the night, the black canyon groaned & heaved & gurgled, as if we slept in the belly of a coldblooded beast. I slept little, & when I dozed I dreamt that I drowned or was shoved beneath the ice of a clawing glacier. Even Samuelson, whose sleep is never disturbed, was restless.
?—?What if we wake to open water, & we’re trapped here? Tillman whispered into the dark.
No one answered.
Later, I thought I heard someone mumbling prayers, but it may have only been a dream.
At first gray light, we found that the river was still frozen.
The Indian woman was gone.
?—?Wondered if she might take off like that, Samuelson said.
?—?She’s gone for Boyo, Tillman said.
I asked why she returned with us at all, if she intended to go for the dog in the end.
?—?Probably thought it would be easier to leave under cover of night than argue.
She had left the supplies from her pack, but taken her personal belongings.
Contrary to every other day before, Tillman was first ready. Boyd was wrapping his feet in animal hide, his boots long since deteriorated to scraps. The rest of us were eating cold bits of rabbit meat.
?—?Come on! Let’s go then, Tillman urged. —?I won’t sleep another night in here.
There was no way to have known we were so near, but Tillman will not forgive me for making us sleep in that canyon. Less than a quarter mile ahead, beyond the next turn in the river, we came to the end. It was marked by a slow opening & lightening of the sky. The rock walls eased into steep hills of blue-gray spruce trees. The river widened, its ice now laced with channels of open water. The sun was just above the mountains. Pruitt checked his watch. It was not yet 11 in the morning. It had taken us 1 day & 1 hour to pass through the canyon.
I am much relieved. From first contemplating this expedition, I believed this to be our most significant obstacle. The canyon stopped Haigh, & many of the Russians before him, if only because they falsely believed they could navigate its open waters. Only over ice can it be traveled. Even then it is no easy chore.
I have taken a short break to eat the hardtack Tillman has distributed to us & also to rest my hand from writing in this cramped journal. Now I return to my entry, for I fear that if I do not get all of this down, the sharp details will be forgotten.