APPENDIX II 349 



lished the fact that a pair of wolves is a match for a full- 

 grown musk-ox. 



From Camp Fosheim we set out northwest toward the 

 unexplored coast of Grant Land. To our right Greely 

 Fjord extended, misty and mysterious, the unknown 

 portion of our trail. Before us opened a fjord, how long 

 or how large we could not tell. We headed for the 

 mouth of this fjord. The snow lay soft and deep; after 

 a long, slow drag in which I broke trail all day with 

 snow-shoes, leading my dogs, we came near enough 

 to search the hills with our glasses. The scenery was 

 grand, but the prospect was dubious. Grant Land is a 

 land of high relief; great dark mountains, some round- 

 topped and snow-covered, some sharp-peaked and black, 

 with gleaming glaciers coming down most of the valleys, 

 constitute the dominant tone of the landscape; but of 

 game we could not see a trace. We made camp just at 

 the mouth of the fjord, in the shadow of a frowning, for- 

 bidding cliff. 



We entered the fjord the next morning, I leading the 

 way on my snow-shoes to break the trail as on the day 

 before. Until noon we could see no trace of game. 

 Shortly after twelve we stopped to rest, and finally 

 with my big Leitz glasses we descried a musk-ox walking 

 along the crest of a ridge far within the fjord. Then 

 we saw another, and still another; then many; finally 

 we could count over sixty, and knew there must be more 

 about. We were overjoyed, for now we were sure that 

 the unknown land had game and food for us. 



As we started out again, I could not help a brief 

 muttered prayer of thanks — "Lord, Thou hast done well 

 with us" — and took my place at the head with renewed 

 strength. The way to the musk-oxen was long and hard, 



