THE VAPOUR-BATH 331 



there was nothing to take hold of. Far away in the 

 fog I could see a light, and made my way to it with 

 caution. Before I knew where I was, I stood at the 

 other end of the passage, which led into a large room, 

 covered with rime, and closed overhead by a mighty 

 dome of ice. The steam was troublesome, and spoilt 

 my view of the room. But what had become of 

 Hassel? I could only see Bjaaland. Then suddenly 

 the fog seemed to clear for an instant, and I caught 

 sight of a bare leg disappearing into a big black box, 

 and a moment later I saw Hassel's smiling face on the 

 top of the box. A shudder passed through my frame 

 he looked as if he had been decapitated. On further 

 consideration, his features were too smiling; the head 

 could not be severed from the body yet. Now the 

 steam began to clear away little by little, and at last one 

 could see clearly what was going on. I had to laugh; 

 it was all very easy to understand now. But I think 

 Sherlock Holmes would have found it a hard nut to 

 crack if he had been set down blindfold on the 

 Antarctic Barrier, as I was, so to speak, and asked 

 to explain the situation. It was one of those folding 

 American vapour-baths that Hassel sat in. The bath- 

 room, which had looked so spacious and elegant in the 

 fog, reduced itself to a little snow-hut of insignificant 

 appearance. The steam was now collected in the bath, 

 and one could see by the face above that it was begin- 

 ning to be warm there. The last thing I saw Bjaaland 



