366 LONG AND WEARY MARCH. 



everywhere more or less embarrassed our progress. 

 The snow-drifts were often so deep that the dogs had 

 much trouble in wading through them, and it was 

 all that they could do to drag the now quite empty 

 sledge. After a time they became so much exhausted 

 that it was with the utmost difficulty we could 

 force them forward. The poor beasts fell in their 

 tracks the moment the whip ceased to be applied. I 

 had never before seen them so much broken. To 

 halt was of little use, as rest, without food, would 

 do harm rather than good ; and as we had no shel- 

 ter, and in the item of food were as badly off as the 

 dogs, there was nothing for us to do but to hold on 

 and get through to Jensen's camp, or perish in the 

 storm. Fortunately, the wind was at our backs. 



We kept on in our winding course through the 

 pelting snow, and reached, finally, the north side of 

 the bay above Jensen's camp ; and then the hardest 

 part of the journey was to come. The tramp across 

 that bay comes back to me now as the vague recol- 

 lection of some ugly dream. I scarcely remember 

 how we got through it. I recall only an endless 

 pounding of the dogs, who wanted to lie down with 

 every step, the ceaseless wading, the endless crunch 

 of the wearied feet breaking through the old snow- 

 crust, the laborious climbing over hummocks, the 

 pushing and lifting of the sledge, — and, through the 

 blinding snow, I remember, at length, catching sight 

 of the land and of hearing the cry of Jensen's dogs ; 

 and then of crawling up the ice-foot to his snow-hut. 

 Through all these last hours, we were aware of a de- 

 sire to halt and sleep ; and it is fortunate for us that 

 we did not lose consciousness of its dangers. 



Without waiting to be fed, the dogs tumbled over 



