PART THREE

THE NORTHWEST

There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the tranquil snows; There where the silences are spawned, and the light of hell-fire flows Into the bowl of the midnight sky, violet, amber, and rose. There where the rapids churn and roar, and the ice-floes bellowing run;

Where the tortured, twisted rivers of blood rush to the setting sun.

—Robert W. Service.