Chapter VIII: Part THREE: The Northwest

There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the
tranquil snows;
There where the silences are spawned, and the light of
hell-fire flows
Into the bowl of the midnight sky, violet, amber, and
rose.
There where the rapids churn and roar, and the ice-floes
bellowing run;

Where the tortured, twisted rivers of blood rush to the
setting sun.

—Robert W. Service.