The People Beyond The Wall

Miles to the west we could see the canyon widen to a spreading valley; the granite uplifts on which we stood sloped away to hilly rolling country. Behind us the snow ranges reared, a piled and awesome jumble. Still, it didn’t seem right. I should have recognized peaks, but they were strange.

There were patches of timber below us, some spruce, but broadleafs too, in variety. They shouldn’t have been there. A small band of elk drifted across an open space. They were familiar enough, but out of place.

“Denny,” I said, “You’ve flown across to Yakutat. Where are we?”

“Vin,” he said, “I never saw those peaks. There’s no country like this west of the St. Elias.” He rubbed his nose and stared into the distance, into the west. “This is funny business.”