CHAPTER I 



TWO THOUSAND MILES DOWN THE YUKON 



WE lay under the fly of our tent one sizzling 

 December noontide just south of the equator 

 in British East Africa. A little thermometer, 

 basking in the sunshine, was filled with mercury 

 clear up to the top, beyond its highest figures. A quiver- 

 ing haze of heat-waves lay above the earth, twisting 

 distant objects into uncouth, Uvely antics. Zebras and 

 gazelles dozed in the scanty shade of thorn bushes. 



"It would be a pleasant contrast to this winter 

 climate," remarked Collins, as he sipped his lime-juice, 

 "to spend a summer in the Arctic." 



Fancy played with this thought imtil the idea was 

 not only born but well nourished. 



On om- return to temperate latitudes there followed 

 an extensive investigation of various routes and means 

 of making an expedition into the lands of ice and snow. 

 We corresponded with Arctic explorers, hunters, whalers 

 and sportsmen. Norwegian mariners offered to take us 

 north of Iceland; Scotch whaUng captains would show us 

 their trade, with some hunting thrown in, on a six 

 months' voyage between America and Greenland; we 

 could charter a steamer at vast expense and cruise per- 

 haps as far as Ellesmere Land, toward the regions which 

 Peary had made his own. The Antarctic we left quite 

 out of consideration because of its comparative dearth 

 of big game. 



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