10 THE START FOR THE POLE 



Meanwhile we had brought all our things as far as 

 possible into a place of safety; the dogs lay harnessed 

 to reduce the risk of losing them. Wisting was just 

 going over to his sledge — he had gone the same way 

 several times before — when suddenly I saw nothing but 

 his head, shoulders and arms above the snow. He had 

 fallen through, but saved himself by stretching his arms 

 out as he fell. The crevasse was bottomless, like the 

 rest. We went into the tent and cooked lobscouse. 

 Leaving the weather to take care of itself, we made 

 ourselves as comfortable as we could. It was then one 

 o'clock in the afternoon. The wind had fallen con- 

 siderably since we came in, and before we knew what 

 was happening, it was perfectly calm. It began to 

 brighten a little about three, and we went out to look 

 at it. 



The weather was evidently improving, and on the 

 northern horizon there was a sign of blue sky. On the 

 south it was thick. Far off, in the densest part of the 

 mist, we could vaguely see the outline of a dome-like 

 elevation, and Wisting and Hanssen went off to ex- 

 amine it. The dome turned out to be one of the small 

 haycock formations that we had seen before in this 

 district. They struck at it with their poles, and — just 

 as they expected — it was hollow, and revealed the 

 darkest abyss. Hanssen was positively chuckling with 

 delight when he told us about it; Hassel sent him an 

 envious glance. 



