110 AT THE POLE 



December 7 began like the 6th, with absolutely thick 

 weather, but, as they say, you never know what the day 

 is like before sunset. Possibly I might have chosen 

 a better expression than this last — one more in agree- 

 ment with the natural conditions — but I will let it stand 

 Though for several weeks now the sun had not set, my 

 readers will not be so critical as to reproach me with 

 inaccuracy. With a light wind from the north-east, we 

 now went southward at a good speed over the perfectly 

 level plain, with excellent going. The uphill work had 

 taken it out of our dogs, though not to any serious 

 extent. They had turned greedy — there is no denying 

 that — and the half kilo of pemmican they got each day 

 was not enough to fill their stomachs. Early and late 

 they were looking for something — no matter what — to 

 devour. To begin with they contented themselves with 

 such loose objects as ski-bindings, whips, boots, and the 

 like; but as we came to know their proclivities, we took 

 such care of everything that they found no extra meals 

 lying about. But that was not the end of the matter. 

 They then went for the fixed lashings of the sledges, 

 and — if we had allowed it — would very quickly have 

 resolved the various sledges into their component parts. 

 But we found a way of stopping that : every evening, on 

 halting, the sledges were buried in the snow, so as to 

 hide all the lashings. That was successful; curiously 

 enough, they never tried to force the " snow rampart." 



I may mention as a curious thing that these ravenous 



