"Shucks!" he said; "there's a road five miles wide inter that there
table-land. Mister, I ain't been in New York long; I come inter port a
week ago on the _Arctic Belle_, whaler. I was in the Hudson range when
that there Graham Glacier bust up--"
"What!" I exclaimed.
"Didn't you know it?" he asked. "Well, mebbe it ain't in the papers,
but it busted all right--blowed up by a earthquake an' volcano
combine. An', mister, it was oreful. My, how I did run!"
"Do you mean to tell me that some convulsion of the earth has
shattered the Graham Glacier?" I asked.
"Convulsions? Ya-as, an' fits, too," he said, sulkily. "The hull blame
thing dropped inter a hole. An' say, mister, home an' mother is good
enough fur me now."