64 



MY ARCTIC JOURNAL 



there is no wind whatever. I went to my fox-traps this fore- 

 noon, and found the view from the heights very fine. The 

 clouds hung low, and gave a soft gray background for the blue 

 bergs which gleamed on every side of a long black strip of 

 water — the open sea — in the far distance. The light that fell 

 on Northumberland Island decked it in a bright yellow, 

 while the cliffs across the bay were black in the dark shadow. 

 The boys brought the "Mary Peary" up and turned her 

 over, supporting her on pillars built of blocks of ice. Here Mr. 

 Peary intends to put such provisions as we may need for our 

 boat-journey home next summer, covering the whole thing 

 with snow. The "Faith" has been turned over against the 

 front wall, and a place fixed under her for the Newfoundland 

 dogs, Jack and Frank. As soon as we have enough snow the 

 house, too, will be banked in with it. 



