52 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [Feb. 



Inflefield, R.N., the first explorer to enter the portals 

 of Smith Sound, this cape has played a large part in 

 Arctic history, witnessing the passing of the ships of 

 three nations in their endeavors to penetrate into the 

 unknown and plant their country's flag at "Farthest 

 North." As we groped with numbed fingers in the 

 gathering darkness amid the rocks, seeking a shelter 

 for the dogs, my mind was filled with incidents of the 

 past connected with this inhospitable place. We readily 

 found Peary's old hut, headquarters of his 1900 North 

 Polar Expedition. Dark, damp, and dirty; no floors, 

 no windows, no ceiling; a cracked stove, a more than 

 cracked stovepipe; and a non-closing door — it was not 

 a bit inviting for a night's rest! 



We were glad to get out in the morning on the smooth 

 ice of Rice Strait, which separates Bedford Pim Island 

 from the mainland. The cutting wind, which seems to 

 be ever rushing through this pass, compelled us to lie 

 low on our sledges with faces buried in the furs to pre- 

 vent frost-bite. In a few hours we reached the big 

 cache at Cape Rutherford, at the entrance to Buchanan 

 Bay, where we loaded our sledges to the limit. It was 

 now push, pull, and yell at the dogs as they plodded 

 through rough ice and deep snow for a mile or two 

 before taking the ice-foot, where we found excellent 

 going. Pemmican-tins, stained snow, and hitching- 

 holes for the dogs betrayed where the advance divisions 

 had slept on their sledges, finding no snow suitable for 

 igloos. It looked like spending a night out of doors 

 at fifty below, not an inviting prospect when one is 

 covered with sweat. We shivered in the lee of our loads, 

 pounded our toes, and impatiently watched our blue- 

 flame stove as it struggled to convert ice into boiling 



