66 THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS 



I was aroused from my musings by Wisting digging 

 his axe into the snow as a sign that his work was done, 

 after which he picked up the cutlets, and went into the 

 tent. The clouds had dispersed somewhat, and from 

 time to time the sun appeared, though not in its most 

 genial aspect. We succeeded in catching it just in time 

 to get our latitude determined — 85° 36' S. We were 

 lucky, as not long after the wind got up from the east- 

 south-east, and, before we knew what was happening, 

 everything was in a cloud of snow. But now we 

 snapped our fingers at the weather; what difference 

 did it make to us if the wind howled in the guy-ropes 

 and the snow drifted? We had, in any case, made up 

 our minds to stay here for a while, and we had food in 

 abundance. We knew the dogs thought much the same : 

 so long as we have enough to eat, let the weather go hang. 



Inside the tent Wisting was getting on well when we 

 came in after making these observations. The pot was 

 on, and, to judge by the savoury smell, the preparations 

 were already far advanced. The cutlets were not fried ; 

 we had neither frying-pan nor butter. We could, no 

 doubt, have got some lard out of the pemmican, and we 

 might have contrived some sort of a pan, so that we 

 could have fried them if it had been necessary; but we 

 found it far easier and quicker to boil them, and in this 

 way we got excellent soup into the bargain. Wisting 

 knew his business surprisingly well; he had put into 

 the soup all those parts of the pemmican that contained 



