A WONDERFUL EXHIBITION
Unto no one, excepting him who journeys far into the Northland, is
given it to view such an amazing picture as was now spread out before
the enraptured gaze of Rob Carrol and Fred Warburton. In Northern
Siberia, the Scandinavian Peninsula, the upper portion of the American
Continent, and the Arctic Sea, the traveler learns in all its
wonderful fullness of glory the meaning of the Aurora Borealis or
Northern Lights.
The boys had had partial glimpses of the scene on their voyage through
the Greenland Sea, and there were flickerings of light which caught
their eye on the trip from the iceberg to the mainland, and the short
walk to Docak's hut, but it was during their short stay in the rude
dwelling that the mysterious scene-shifters of the skies unfolded
their magnificent panorama in all its overwhelming grandeur.
Radiating from a huge nucleus, which seemed to be the North Pole
itself, shot the streamers of light, so vast in extent that their
extremities struck the zenith, withdrawing with lightning-like
quickness, and succeeded by others with the same celerity and
displaying all the vivid hues of the rainbow.
At times these dartings resembled immense spears, and then they
changed to bands of light, turning again into ribbons which shivered
and hovered in the sky, with bewildering variation, turning and
doubling upon themselves, spreading apart like an immense fan, and
then trembling on the very verge of the horizon, as if about to vanish
in the darkness of night.
At the moment the spectators held their breath, fearing that the
celestial display was ended; the streamers, spears, bands of violet,
indigo, blue, orange, red, green, and yellow, with the innumerable
shades, combinations, and mingling of colors, shot out and spread over
the sky like the myriad rays of the setting sun.
This continued for several minutes, marked by irregular degrees of
intensity, so impressive in its splendor that neither lad spoke, for
he could make no comment upon the exhibition, the like of which is
seen nowhere else in nature.
But once both gave a sigh of amazed delight when a ribbon, combining
several vivid colors, quivered, danced, and streamed far beyond the
zenith, with a wary appearance that suggested that some giant,
standing upon the extreme northern point of the earth, had suddenly
unrolled this marvelous ribbon and was waving it in the eyes of an
awestruck world.
One of the most striking features of those mysterious electrical
phenomena known as the Northern Lights is the absolute silence which
accompanies them. The genius of man can never approach in the smallest
degree the beauties of the picture without some noise, but here nature
performs her most wonderful feat in utter stillness. The panorama may
unfold, roll together, spread apart again with dazzling brilliancy and
suddenness, but the strained ear catches no sound, unless dissociated
altogether from the phenomenon itself, such as the soft sighing of the
Arctic wind over the wastes of snow, or through the grove of solemn
pines.
There were moments when the effulgence spread over the earth, like the
rays of the midnight sun, and the lads, standing in front of the
primitive dwelling of the Esquimau, resembled a couple of figures
stamped in ink in the radiant field.
For nearly an hour the rapt spectators stood near the entrance to the
native dwelling, insensible to the extreme cold, and too profoundly
impressed to speak or stir; but the heavens had given too great a
wealth of splendor, brilliancy, color, and celestial scene-shifting to
continue it long. The subtle exchange of electrical conditions must
have reached something like an equipoise, and the overwhelming beauty
and grandeur exhausted itself.
The ribbons and streamers that had been darting to and beyond the
zenith, shortened their lightning excursions into space, leaping forth
at longer intervals and to a decreasing distance, until they ceased
altogether, displaying a few flickerings in the horizon, as though
eager to bound forth again, but restrained by a superior hand with the
command, "Enough for this time."
Fred drew a deep sigh.
"I never dreamed that anywhere in the world one could see such a sight
as that."
"It is worth a voyage from home a hundred times over, and I don't
regret our stay on the iceberg, for we would have been denied it
otherwise."
"If there are any people living near the North Pole, it must be like
dwelling in another world. I don't see how they stand it."
"I believe that the Northern Lights have their origin between here and
the Pole," said Fred; "though I am not sure of that."
"The magnetic pole, which must be the source of the display, is south
of the earth's pole, and I suppose that's the reason for the belief
you mention. But it is enough to fill one with awe, when he gazes on
the scene and reflects that the world is one great reservoir of
electricity, which, if left free for a moment by its Author, would
shiver the globe into nothingness, and leave only an empty void where
the earth swung before."
"I pity the man who says, 'There is no God,' or who can look unmoved
to the very depths of his soul by such displays of infinite power."
"There are no such persons," exclaimed Rob, impatiently; "they may
repeat the words, because they think it brave and smart before their
companions, but they don't believe themselves. It is impossible."
"Why didn't we think to tell Jack and Docak, that they might have
enjoyed the scene with us?"
"The native Esquimaux see it too often to care about it. It is hard to
understand how any one can become accustomed to it, but we know it is
so. As for Jack, he must have looked upon it many times before, when
he was in this latitude. Gracious! but it has become cold," added Rob,
with a shiver.
"It isn't any colder than it has been all the evening, but we forgot
about it while the exhibition was going on."
The boys turned about, and, ducking their heads, made their way along
the long entry, quickly debouching into the warmth and glow of the
living room, where Docak and the sailor, having laid away their pipes,
were talking like a couple of old friends who had not seen each other
for years and were exchanging experiences. Crestana had finished her
work in the kitchen and joined them. She was sitting on the shorter
bench, and, like a thrifty housewife, was engaged in repairing some of
her husband's bulky garments, with big needles and coarse thread.
She looked up with her pleasant smile, as the boys entered, their
bodies shivering and their teeth chattering from the extreme cold.
"You chaps must have found it mighty pleasant out-doors," remarked the
sailor.
"Ah! Jack, if you had been with us, you would have seen a sight worth
a journey around the world."
"What was it? Another polar bear, or two of them?"
"The Northern Lights, and O--"
"The Northern Lights," interrupted their friend, with a sniff of
disgust; "is that all?"
The boys looked at him, too horrified to speak.
"I'll own that they are rather purty, and the first two or three times
a chap looks onto 'em he is apt to hold his breath, and rub his eyes,
but, when you've seed 'em as often as me, it'll get to be an old
story. Besides Docak and me had more important bus'ness to talk
about."
"What was that?"
"This hunting trip; it's all fixed."
"When do we start?"
"To-morrow morning. There's no saying how long we'll be gone, and I've
told him that it doesn't make any difference to us, so we get back
some time this year."
"Can we travel without snow-shoes?"
"Luckily we can, for Docak has only two pair. This fog and a little
rain we've had have formed a crust on the snow hard enough to bear a
reindeer, so that we can travel over it as easy as if it were solid
ice. The only thing to be feared is another deep fall of snow afore we
can get back. That would make hard traveling, but then a hunter must
take some risk and who cares? We may see sights and meet fun that will
last us a lifetime."