BARTLETT REACHES 87° 47' 265 



The entire region through which we had come 

 during the last four marches was full of unpleasant 

 possibilities for the future. Only too well we knew 

 that violent winds for even a few hours would set the 

 ice all abroad in every direction. Crossing such a zone 

 on a journey north is only half the problem, for there 

 is always the return to be figured on. Though the 

 motto of the Arctic must be, "Sufficient unto the day 

 is the evil thereof," we ardently hoped there might 

 not be violent winds until we were south of this zone 

 again on the return. 



The next march was to be Bartlett's last, and he 

 let himself out to do his best. The going was fairly 

 good, but the weather was thick. There was a strong 

 northerly wind blowing full in our faces, bitter and 

 insistent, and the temperature was in the minus thir- 

 ties. But this northerly wind, though hard to struggle 

 against, was better than an easterly or westerly one, 

 either of which would have set us adrift in open water, 

 while, as it was, the wind was closing up every lead 

 behind us and thus making things easier for Bartlett's 

 supporting party on its return. True, the wind 

 pressure was forcing to the south the ice over which 

 we traveled, and thus losing us miles of distance; but 

 the advantage of frozen leads was more than compensa- 

 tion for this loss. 



So good was Bartlett's pace during the last half 

 of the march that if I stopped an instant for any 

 purpose I had to jump on a sledge or run, to catch up, 

 and during the last few miles I walked beside Bartlett 

 in advance. He was very sober and anxious to 

 go further; but the program was for him to go back 



