The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
have canted over dangerously towards the ice; 
this in direct ratio to the strength of the wind. 
Perhaps—for it is all surmise on my part—the 
car and balloon from being thus anchored hit 
the ice, and this may have tumbled out one or 
more of the occupants of the car, together with 
much of the freight and stores the balloon 
carried. She would then no doubt strain, or 
break away the ropes, leaving one or more of 
the travellers on the ice. Relieved of this 
weight she would again shoot high into the air, 
when, in all probability, she met other currents 
of air that may have blown her in exactly the 
opposite direction to that intended. The result 
would be disaster. Those on the ice must die of 
starvation and exposure, whilst if one passenger 
was left in the balloon to continue the journey 
the same fate would eventually be his if he 
landed, as he may well have done, in the centre 
of Greenland. I like to remember Andrée as the 
man of all others whom I have met whose will 
and singleness of purpose were alike magnificent. 
He failed, but his very failure was more splendid 
than many a lesser man’s success. He gave me 
a signed photograph, which I reproduce. “‘ Peace 
be to his ashes.”” His country and the world in 
general are the poorer for his loss. 
As the time was drawing near when I 
should have to return to England I set myself 
seriously to work to catch some of the gulls and 
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