148 FARTHEST NORTH 



was to fight our way northward — always northward. 

 We performed our toilets, and then came the going 

 out into the cold to get the sledges ready, disentangle the 

 dogs' traces, harness the animals, and get off as quickly 

 as possible. I went first to find the way through the 

 uneven ice, then came the sledge with my kayak. The 

 dogs soon learned to follow, but at every unevenness of 

 the ground they stopped, and if one could not get them 

 all to start again at the same time by a shout, and so pull 

 the sledge over the difficulty, one had to go back to 

 beat or help them, according as circumstances neces- 

 sitated. Then came Johansen with the two other sledges, 

 always shouting to the dogs to pull harder, always 

 beating them, and himself hauling to get the sledges 

 over the terrible ridges of ice. It was undeniable 

 cruelty to the poor animals from first to last, and one 

 must often look back on it with horror. It makes me 

 shudder even now when I think of how we beat them 

 mercilessly with thick ash sticks when, hardly able to 

 move, they stopped from sheer exhaustion. It made 

 one's heart bleed to see them, but we turned our eyes 

 away and hardened ourselves. It was necessary; for- 

 ward we must go, and to this end everything else must 

 give place. It is the sad part of expeditions of this kind 

 that one systematically kills all better feelings, until only 

 hard-hearted egoism remains. When I think of all those 

 splendid animals, toiling for us without a murmur, as 

 long as they could strain a muscle, never getting any 



