224 THE EASTERN SLEDGE JOURNEY 



seventy-five miles up the Barrier, was in itself a remark- 

 able thing. It must, of course, be one of the southern 

 party's dogs, but how the runaway had kept himself alive 

 all that time was for the present a mystery. On coming 

 to closer quarters we soon found that it was one of 

 Hassel's dogs, Peary by name. He was a little shy 

 to begin with, but when he heard his name he quickly 

 understood that we were friends come on a visit, and no 

 longer hesitated to approach us. He was fat and round, 

 and evidently pleased to see us again. The hermit had 

 lived on the lamentable remains of poor Sara, whom we 

 had been obliged to kill here in September. Sara's lean 

 and frozen body did not seem particularly adapted for 

 making anyone fat, and yet our newly-found friend 

 Peary looked as if he had been feasting for weeks. 

 Possibly he had begun by devouring Neptune, another 

 of his companions, who had also given the southern party 

 the slip on the way to the depot in 80° S. However this 

 may be, Peary's rest cure came to an abrupt conclusion. 

 Stubberud took him and put liim in his team. 



We had thought of reaching the depot before the 

 close of the day, and this we could easily have done 

 if the good going had continued; but during the after- 

 noon the surface became so loose that the dogs sank in 

 up to their chests, and when — at about six in the even- 

 ing — the sledge-meter showed twenty-one geographical 

 miles, the animals were so done up that it was no use 

 going on. 



