BUCKWHEAT CAKES 293 



" what kind of weather did you say it was?" I prick up 

 my ears; there is going to be fun. ' It was an easterly 

 breeze and thick as a wall, when I was out at six 

 o'clock." -" Hm! then it has cleared remarkably quickly. 

 It's a dead calm now, and quite clear." " Ah, that's just 

 what I should have thought! I could see it was falling 

 light, and it was getting brighter in the east." He got 

 out of that well. Meanwhile it was again the turn 

 of the bowl. It was taken down from the shelf over the 

 range and put on the bench; the various cloths were 

 removed one by one until it was left perfectly bare. 

 I could not resist any longer; I had to get up and look. 

 And indeed it was worth looking at. The bowl was 

 filled to the brim with golden-yellow dough, full of air- 

 bubbles, and showing every sign that he had got it to 

 rise. Now I began to respect Lindstrom; he was a 

 devil of a fellow. No confectioner in our native latitudes 

 could have shown a finer dough. It was now 7.25; 

 everything seems to go by the clock here. 



Lindstrom threw a last tender glance at his bowl, 

 picked up a little bottle of spirits, and went into the next 

 room. I saw my chance of following him in. There 

 was not going to be any fun out there with Amundsen, 

 who was sitting on the camp-stool half asleep. In 

 the other room it was pitch-dark, and an atmosphere- 

 no, ten atmospheres at least! I stood still in the door- 

 way and breathed heavily. Lindstrom stumbled forward 

 in the darkness, felt for and found the matches. He 



