A DEPOT MISSED 147 



recognize the ground below the glacier. According to 

 our idea, we were on the east of the depot. The 

 bearings, which had been taken in thick air, and were 

 now to guide us in this heavy mist, gave no result 

 whatever. There was no depot to be seen. 



We had just swallowed the grateful warm pemmican 

 when the sun suddenly showed itself. I don't think 

 the camp was ever broken and the sledges packed in 

 such a short time. From the moment we jumped out 

 of our bags till the sledges were ready, it only took us 

 fifteen minutes, which is incredibly quick. " What on 

 earth is that shining over there through the fog?" The 

 question came from one of the lads. The mist had 

 divided, and was rolling away on both sides; in the 

 western bank something big and white peeped through 

 — a long ridge running north and south. Hurrah! it's 

 Helland Hansen. Can't possibly be anything else. 

 Our only landmark on the west. We all shouted with 

 joy on meeting this old acquaintance. But in the 

 direction of the depot the fog hung thick. We held 

 a brief consultation, and agreed to let it go, to steer for 

 the Butcher's and put on the pace. We had food enough, 

 anyhow. No sooner said than done, and we started off. 

 It rapidly cleared, and then, on our way towards Helland 

 Hansen, we found out that we had come, not too far to 

 the east, but too far to the west. But to turn round 

 and begin to search for our depot was not to our liking. 

 Below Mount Helland Hansen we came up on a fairly 



