"Will this cursed glacier,” he cried in a voice laden with passion, “never let their bones rest in peace?"

He glanced around, swiftly and surreptitiously. Had he overdone it? No, they all seemed genuinely moved. (Not the immovable Anna, of course.) What a line it would make in the book, what a marvelous scene. He didn't know about the “cursed,” though. A little too melodramatic? He'd have to think that through.

"I imagine we should bring these remains back with us,” Anna said, still holding the shoe. She looked at Tibbett. “Is there a suitable container on the boat?"

"Seems to me,” offered Pratt, “that we ought to leave ‘em where we found ‘em. Been here for thirty years. Don't see much point in moving ‘em."

"Not much point?" Shirley was shocked. “Are you nuts, or what? This could be what's left of your brother, for God's sake! Do you want to leave it for the animals to chew on?"

"Bears been chewing on ‘em all this time,” was Pratt's unsentimental reply. “Don't see much point in moving ‘em now."

"Jesus,” Shirley said, having recovered enough by now to speak out of the side of her mouth again, “can you believe this guy? Look, this could be my sister too, you know, and if it is, I don't want her lying out here anymore.” To Tremaine's amazement, her horsey face suddenly bunched up and reddened; tears spurted from her eyes. “Damn,” she said, and turned away.

Pratt shrugged and shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking abashed. “Either way,” he said around his pipe. “Dudn't much matter to me."

"Mr. Tibbett, what is the proper course?” Tremaine asked, not overly optimistic about getting a definitive reply.

"Oh,” Tibbett said, still looking at the shoe with extreme distaste, “well.” He cleared his throat. “I'm not absolutely sure, to tell you the truth. I'll go back to the boat and radio my chief ranger. He's more familiar with this…this sort of thing, you know. He'll know the right way to go about it."