A FINE DAY'S RUN. 327 



camp of last night, and we have nothing to lie upon 

 but the snow, which is only a shade softer than ice. 

 Out of one of our provision tins we made -a kettle, 

 and of another a lamp, and so got some supper. Jen- 

 sen is still partially snow-blind, and his sufferings have 

 not diminished. This snow-blindness is simply an in- 

 flammation of the entire eye-ball, originating in the 

 retina in consequence of the intense light produced 

 by the glare of the sun reflected from the universal 

 whiteness. 



May 3d. 



The storm detained us in our miserable den for 

 twelve hours. The rest did the dogs good, and we 

 have made the cheeriest day's work yet. But, as 

 every rose has its thorn, so every day must have its 

 drawback. Jensen, stumbling along with his bad 

 eyes, got his leg into a crack and gave it a severe 

 wrench. He tells me that the leg was broken two 

 years ago ; and the fracture having been oblique, and 

 the parts allowed to overlap each other while healing, 

 the union has been imperfect. 



May 4 th. 



A fine day's run. We had some smooth ice, and 

 got on briskly. Jensen's snow-blindness has disap- 

 peared, and our route having led us over old floes, his 

 leg has not hurt him much and has improved. He is 

 now digging a pit for our night shelter, and sings a 

 Danish song as cheerily as the grave-digger in Ham- 

 let. Knorr and McDonald are chopping up the cakes 

 of desiccated beef for the dogs ; and the wolfish 

 brutes fill the air with the most hideous cries. The 

 spectral pack of the wild Hartz huntsman never split 

 the ear of belated traveler with more awful sounds 

 than those which come from the throats of my wild 





