no SPITSBERGEN chap, vn 



on a dry bank almost level with the col, which we named 

 Brent Pass, from the flocks of geese that kept flying over it. 



The ponies arrived fairly famished, for there had been 

 no grazing worth mention at Ooze Camp, and we were 

 carrying no hay. Thus far Bergen had been cock of the 

 caravan. Now, over their feed of oats, Spits resisted his 

 supremacy, and a fine squabble arose. Kicks were freely 

 exchanged, and what sounded like equine abuse. Before 

 they could be interfered with, Bergen so definitely got the 

 worst of it that he always knuckled under in future, letting 

 Spits deprive him of the remainder of his oats, or any 

 succulent morsel she might find him devouring, if no one 

 was by to see fair-play. 



The geologists went to investigate Booming Glacier next 

 day, and found its sides as steep and almost as inaccessible 

 as its front. The ice-stream bulges and cracks all round its 

 edge and up both sides apparently for miles. With difficulty 

 and some danger they climbed on to it, returning even 

 more learned than they went. So fascinated was Garwood 

 with what he saw that he returned three weeks later to 

 Brent Pass, and climbed the peak (2868 feet) above the left 

 bank of the glacier, which in its turn is separated by another 

 glacier from the wider mountain that rose immediately 

 opposite to our camp, to which we gave the name Baldhead. 

 The group of peaks that surround Booming Glacier is the 

 culminating mountain mass between Advent Vale and the 

 valley of the Shallow River. If it had not been for our 

 appointment to meet Trevor-Battye at Sassen Bay, we should 

 have spent two days here for the purpose of exploring the 

 head of the glacier. 



I spent the day on the opposite slopes. Two reindeer 

 at one time visited me, looking, running away, returning, 

 running away once more, and so on for half-an-hour. Later, 

 I walked over Brent Pass (450 feet) to discover the best way 



