IN SCHAROK CAMP 199 
But you may fool yourself—you may have your 
Barataria none the less. You can lie back upon 
the moss with the sea-wind in your face and be— 
greater than Sancho—be a Prospero who holds all the 
strings. 
Your island perhaps is assailed by legions, half-Viking 
and half-monstrous forms; but let the assault break 
never so fiercely it cannot silence the guns. 
Down at your feet swoops the falcon with the story of 
the battle, for it watched as it hung in the cloud. And 
the glitter-winged divers carry your commands, and 
large-eyed seals come up to spy in unsuspected corners, 
and, silent and secret, disappear again. 
All the things have their places according to your fancy, 
and you may detail it as you please—a foolish baby 
game, but there is no other to play in such a lonely isle. 
July 12th.—We really couldn't stand the seal-fat any 
longer. It was smeared over the grass and all about, so 
that it stuck on our boots and came into the tent. It 
was so universal that we could not avoid it, so adhesive 
that we could not get it off. 
We moved the tent lower, away out of its reach, and 
nearer to our snow-pool. Also we collected a heap of 
chips, which we loaded on the floor-cloth and dragged 
away. 
A snow-bunting lightened our labours much. For he 
sat on the roof of the huts and sang a lovely song, with 
