THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT
Thuswise   we   voyaged   Lake   Bennett,   Tagish,
then Windy Arm, Sinister, savage and baleful, boding us hate  and
harm. Many a scow was shattered  there on  that iron
shore; Many a heart was broken straining at sweep and
oar.
We roused Lake Marsh with a chorus, we drifted many a mile;
There was the canyon before us—cave-like its dark defile;
The shores swept faster and faster; the river narrowed to wrath;
Waters that hissed disaster reared upright in our path.
Beneath us the green tumult churning, above us the cavernous gloom;
Around us, swift twisting and turning, the black, sullen walis of a tomb.
We spun like a chip in a mill-race; our hearts hammered under the test;
Then—oh, the relief on each chill face!—we soared into sunlight and rest.
in