RETURN FROM "FARTHEST WEST" 225 



Two fine snow-capped mountains back of Alert Point 

 are deserving of a name. 



Off Milne Bay, July nth. — Another day of watery 

 hell, beating out in fog and driving snow, through the 

 devil-inspired labyrinth of lakes and rivers set in a 

 morass of knee-deep slush which fills this bay. 



Nine and one-half hours of uninterrupted travel 

 brought us out to the series of "rafters" which form 

 the line of demarcation between the edge of the bay-ice 

 and the pack. Here the roar of some river or lake 

 which was pouring through a crack to the sea, filled 

 our ears. 



Whatever obstacles may be in our way now along 

 this rafter (and God knows there will be enough of 

 them of one kind or another) there should be no rivers 

 to ford and such lakes as there are will in all probability 

 be parallel to our route. 



This going is as yet not quite as bad as the return 

 from the July trip in Princess Marie Bay in 1899, but 

 there is plenty of room for it to become a good deal 

 worse in the miles between here and the Roosevelt. 



Fifteen years ago to-day, I broke my right leg in 

 Melville Bay. 



Two played-out dogs killed and fed to the others. 



Near Cape Richards, July i$th. — At last we are 

 round the comer (Cape Fanshawe Martin) which we 

 have been struggling toward for four days (including 

 to-day) and which has seemed to recede as fast as we 

 advance. 



The going to-day much the same as yesterday, 



