GOOD BY TO MARVIN 251 



who have pictured us sitting comfortably on our 

 sledges, riding over hundreds of miles of ice smooth 

 as a skating pond, should have seen us lifting and tug- 

 ging at our five-hundred-pound sledges, adding our 

 own strength to that of our dogs. 



The day was hazy, and the air was full of frost, 

 which, clinging to our eyelashes, almost cemented them 

 together. Sometimes, in opening my mouth to shout 

 an order to the Eskimos, a sudden twinge would cut 

 short my words — my mustache having frozen to my 

 stubble beard. 



This fifteen mile march put us beyond the Nor- 

 wegian record (86° 13' 6"; see Nansen's "Farthest 

 North," Vol. 2, page 170) and fifteen days ahead of 

 that record. My leading sledge found both Bartlett 

 and Henson in camp; but they were off again, pioneer- 

 ing the trail, before I, bringing up the rear as usual, 

 came in. Egingwah's sledge had been damaged during 

 this march, and as our loads could now be carried on 

 four sledges, owing to what we had eaten along the 

 way, we broke up Marvin's damaged sledge and used 

 the material in it for repairing the other four. As 

 Marvin and two Eskimos were to turn back from the 

 next camp, I left here his supplies for the return and 

 part of his equipment, in order to save unnecessary 

 transportation out and back. The time employed 

 in mending the sledges and shifting the loads cut into 

 our hours of sleep, and after a short rest of three hours 

 we were again under way, with four sledges and teams 

 of ten dogs each. 



The next march was a good one. Bartlett had 

 responded like a thoroughbred to my urging. Fav- 



