270 THENORTHPOLE 



winds, I hoped that I should have no serious trouble 

 with the going. 



If for any reason I fell short of these proposed dis- 

 tances, I had two methods in reserve for making up 

 the deficit. One was to double the last march — that 

 is, make a good march, have tea and a hearty lunch, 

 rest the dogs a little, and then go on again, without 

 sleep. The other was, at the conclusion of my fifth 

 march, to push on with one light sledge, a double team 

 of dogs, and one or two of the party, leaving the rest 

 in camp. Even should the going be worse than was 

 then anticipated, eight marches like the three from 

 85° 48' to 86° 38', or six similar to our last one, would 

 do the trick. 



Underlying all these calculations was the ever- 

 present knowledge that a twenty -fours' gale would open 

 leads of water which might be impassable, and that all 

 these plans would be negatived. 



As I paced to and fro, making out my plans, I 

 remembered that three years ago that day we had 

 crossed the "big lead" on our way north, April 1, 

 1906. A comparison of conditions now and then filled 

 me with hope for the future. 



This was the time for which I had reserved all my 

 energies, the time for which I had worked for twenty- 

 two years, for which I had lived the simple life and 

 trained myself as for a race. In spite of my years, I 

 felt fit for the demands of the coming days and was 

 eager to be on the trail. As for my party, my equip- 

 ment, and my supplies, they were perfect beyond my 

 most sanguine dreams of earlier years. My party 

 might be regarded as an ideal which had now come to 



