304 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [May 



watched intently that beautiful white body gliding 

 along the face of the cliff. Summer had come, although 

 our temperature was zero. 



Our return trip found conditions unchanged — open 

 water at the tips of all the capes. Paget Point, called by 

 the natives Nook-suah (Big Point), is ice-capped, and 

 sends glaciers between massive headlands to the sea. 

 It took four hours to cross this from shore to shore, 

 deep snows necessitating snow-shoes throughout the 

 passage. 



Gale Point, at the northern entrance to Cadogan In- 

 let, is marked by a beautiful buff-and-brown sandstone 

 cliff. A half-hour here enabled the boys to select sev- 

 eral especially fine-grained whetstones, a valuable ac- 

 quisition, seeing that sharp knives are in constant de- 

 mand for their daily routine of work. 



Once more we toiled up the heights of Cape Isabella 

 and rested our dogs on the very summit with the 

 smooth dome of Mt. Bolton at our backs. Perfect 

 weather revealed the distant, but familiar, shores of 

 Greenland stretching north and south until lost in the 

 blue haze. Cape Isabella, the Crystal Palace Cliffs, 

 Foulke Fiord, could all be easily identified. It seemed 

 but a step to the door of Borup Lodge, which I knew to 

 be there with its veil of smoke issuing from the chimney. 



Open water everywhere! To the uninitiated, a cross- 

 ing was absolutely impossible. But we well knew that 

 far to the north, well within Kane Basin, there was an 

 icy bridge awaiting us. 



A run down the north side of Isabella brought us to 

 our selected camping-place upon the very spot used by 

 migrating Eskimos centuries before. A circle of lichen- 

 covered tent stones, rolled back by hands of Eskimos 



