298 WORST JOURNEY IN THE WORLD 
several hours discussed schemes of not getting into our 
bags at all. But some one would have to keep the primus 
going to prevent frost-bite, and we could not trust our- 
selves to keep awake. Bill and I tried to sing a part-song. 
Finally we sopped our way into our bags. We only stuck 
them three hours, and thankfully turned out at 3 a.M., 
and were ready to pack up when we heard the wind come 
away. It was no good, so we sat in our tent and dozed 
again. The wind dropped at 9.30: we were off at II. 
We walked out into what seemed to us a blaze of light. 
It was not until the following year that I understood that 
a great part of such twilight as there is in the latter part of 
the winter was cut off from us by the mountains under 
which we travelled. Now, with nothing between us and 
the northern horizon below which lay the sun, we saw as 
we had not seen for months, and the iridescent clouds that 
day were beautiful. 
We just pulled for all we were worth and did nearly 
two miles an hour: for two miles a baddish salt surface, 
then big undulating hard sastrugi and good going. We 
slept as we walked. We had done eight miles by 4 p.m. 
and were past Glacier Tongue. We lunched there. 
As we began to gather our gear together to pack up for 
the last time, Bill said quietly, “I want to thank you two 
for what you have done. I couldn’t have found two better 
companions—and what is more I never shall.” 
] am proud of that. 
Antarctic exploration is seldom as bad as you imagine, 
seldom as bad asit sounds. But this journey had beggared 
our language: no words could express its horror. 
We trudged on for several more hours and it grew very 
dark. There was a discussion as to where Cape Evans lay. 
We rounded it at last: it must have been ten or eleven 
o'clock, and it was possible that some one might see us as 
we pulled towards the hut. ‘“‘Spread out well,” said Bill, 
‘and they will be able to see that there are three men.” 
But we pulled along the cape, over the tide-crack, up the 
bank to the very door of the hut without a sound. No 
noise from the stable, nor the bark of a dog from the snow- 
