"I never saw it before, of course; but, yes, I believe that I do: this is the place where the angel and the demon crossed over, the spot where Scranton, White and Long found the tracks again." "This is the place." "And where," I asked, "are the Tamahnowis Rocks?" "Can't see them from here, Bill. They're right over there, half a mile distant or so, probably three-quarters." He moved down to the edge of the snow and ice; I followed. "Now for the creepers," said Milton, seating himself on a rock-fragment. "Then we are off." A few moments, and we had fastened on the toothed soles of steel and were under way again. Suddenly Rhodes, who was leading, stopped, raised his alpenstock and pointed with it. "There they are, Bill!" And there they were. The Rocks of Tamahnowis--the Spirit, the Demon Rocks--in sight at last. Chapter 12 WE ENTER THEIR SHADOW For a space we stood there in silence looking at that dark mass which reared itself up, like a temple in ruins I thought, in the midst of the crevassed ice. Then I said: "Who, looking at that pile, would ever dream that there was anything mysterious and terrible about it, anything _scientific_?" "The place," Milton Rhodes returned, "certainly has an innocent look; but looks, you know, are often deceiving. And how deceiving in this particular instance, that we know full well indeed. Besides Scranton, yourself and me, not a living soul knows how horrible was the death of that poor girl." I made no response. Many were the thoughts that came and went as I stood there and looked at those Tamahnowis Rocks. Of a sudden I noticed a slight smile in the eyes of my companion. "Why the grin?" I queried. "This, I must say, is a sweet time for grins. I would suggest that, instead, you say your prayers." Rhodes laughed. Then he pointed to my right hand. This, I now discovered, was resting on that pocket which held my revolver. "I see," he said, "that you have your artillery very handy." "Yes; and I notice that you have, too." "I wish that I could have it even more so, Bill. "You know, old _tillicum_," he added, his brows contracting and a shadow seeming to pass athwart his face and then to return and linger there, "maybe I'll wish that I hadn't dragged you into this wild, unearthly business. And yet I wouldn't care to face it without you beside me." "_Dragged_ me into it?" I exclaimed. "Now, look here: please, Milton, don't say that again." "I hope, Bill, that I haven't--" "Not a bit, not a bit. But I hope you will never talk like that any more." He raised a hand and placed it on my shoulder. "Pardon me, old _tillicum_," he said. "And yet, after all, I may regret it, for this business before us may prove a most terrible one--something even worse than that." For a few moments there was silence, and then I said: "Well, let's _klatawah_." "Yes," said he, turning and starting; "let's _klatawah_.