362 THE VOYAGE OF THE 'DISCOVERY' [Sept 



more than compensates for the extra weight of fuel required. 

 Personally I always preferred cocoa to tea for this meal, mainly 

 because tea is not a food, and can only stimulate. The fact 

 that we took tea on our sledge journeys was rather a concession 

 to the men, who from habit are much attached to this beverage; 

 indeed, there were one or two men who positively disliked 

 cocoa. The best marching hours were always those which 

 succeeded the lunch hour. 



But an hour under these conditions literally flies, and we 

 have barely swallowed our lunch and drawn a whiff or two 

 from our pipes when the order comes to ' pack up ' ; tents and 

 cookers are again packed on the sledge, harness is resumed, 

 and we are once more on the march. 



So mechanically and evenly go these marching hours that I 

 have sometimes had to collect my thoughts to remember 

 whether it is morning or afternoon, or even where I am and 

 what I am doing. It is easy to go into reverie and fly away to 

 the ends of the earth ; nothing disturbs the silence but the 

 regular crunch of the snow-crust and the swish of the sledge- 

 runner. 



But now the wind is springing up again. Throughout the 

 day the clouds have been banking up from the south ; they are 

 now travelling fast overhead, a low flying scud. The sun peeps 

 through at rarer and rarer intervals, the sky and the mountains 

 look very black and sombre, and throw up the intense white- 

 ness of the snow ; the surface drift comes whirling along in 

 ghostly wreaths, and patters about our feet. The outlook is 

 threatening, but we don't want to lose our miles if we can help 

 it, so we plod along as before. As the wind grows stronger, 

 one by one out go the face-guards, and we march with heads 

 turned slightly to the right, away from it. We must keep our 

 eye open for frost-bites now : they will give no warning. Pre- 

 sently the leader calls a halt ; everyone knows what it is for, 

 and each peers into the face of his next-door neighbour. 

 Apparently all is well, and off we go again ; a quarter of an 

 hour later there is another halt and we hear, 'Your cheek's 

 gone, Jim,' and Jim immediately extracts his hand from his 



