130 THENORTHPOLE 



"R" cut in the wood. When I went up to see it, soon 

 after our arrival this last time, the cross was leaning 

 toward the north, as if from the intentness of its three 

 years' northward gazing. 



On the 12th of September we had a holiday, it 

 being the fifteenth birthday of my daughter, Marie 

 Ahnighito, who was born at Anniversary Lodge, 

 Greenland — the most northerly born of all white 

 children. Ten years before, we had celebrated her 

 fifth birthday on the Windward. Many icebergs had 

 drifted down the channels since then, and I was still 

 following the same ideal which had given my daughter 

 so cold and strange a birthplace. 



There was a driving snowstorm that day, but Bart- 

 lett dressed the ship in all the flags, the full inter- 

 national code, and the bright colors of the bunting 

 made a striking contrast to the gray-white sky. Percy, 

 the steward, had baked a special birthday cake, and 

 we had it, surmounted with fifteen blazing candles, 

 on our supper table. Just after breakfast the Eskimos 

 came in with a polar bear, a female yearling six feet 

 long, and I determined to have it mounted for Marie's 

 birthday bear. It should be standing and advancing, 

 one paw extended as if to shake, the head on one side 

 and a bearish smile on the face. The bear provided 

 us with juicy steaks, and we had a special tablecloth, 

 our best cups and saucers, new spoons, et cetera. 



A day or two later we began to get the dogs made 

 fast, in preparation for the first sledge parties. There 

 was now sufficient snow to begin the transportation of 

 supplies toward Cape Columbia, and Black Cliffs 

 Bay was frozen over. The Eskimos tied the dogs, in 



