74 THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS 



turned in and went to sleep. As soon as it brightened, 

 we should have to be ready to jump out and look at 

 the weather; one has to seize every opportunity in 

 these regions. If one neglects to do so, it may mean a 

 long wait and much may be lost. We therefore all 

 slept with one eye open, and we knew well that nothing 

 could happen without our noticing it. 



At three in the morning the sun cut through the 

 clouds and we through the tent-door. To take in the 

 situation was more than the work of a moment. The 

 sun showed as yet like a pat of butter, and had not 

 succeeded in dispersing the thick mists; the wind had 

 dropped somewhat, but was still fairly strong. This is, 

 after all, the worst part of one's job — turning out of 

 one's good, warm sleeping-bag, and standing outside for 

 some time in thin clothes, watching the weather. We 

 knew by experience that a gleam like this, a clearing in 

 the weather, might come suddenly, and then one had to 

 be on the spot. The gleam came; it did not last long, 

 but long enough. We lay on the side of a ridge that 

 fell away pretty steeply. The descent on the south 

 was too abrupt, but on the south-east it was better and 

 more gradual, and ended in a wide, level tract. We 

 could see no crevasses or unpleasantness of any kind. 

 It was not very far that we could see, though; only 

 our nearest surroundings. Of the mountains we saw 

 nothing, neither Fridtjof Nansen nor Don Pedro 

 Christophersen. Well content with our morning's 



