THE WELLMAN POLAR EXPEDITION 499 



to the history of Arctic exploration— had occurred during the 

 winter. Bentzen had been taken ill in November, shortly after 

 our men had left the two there together, and had never recov- 

 ered. Lingering till January 2, carefully nursed by Bjoervig, 

 death had then come to Beritzen's relief. All this Bjoervig told 

 me, when, at the head of our little procession, I met him stand- 

 ing in front of the tunnel which led down into the now snow- 

 buried hut. Then we crawled in, and Bjoervig poked up the 

 blubber fire and started to make me some coffee, as I sat look- 

 ing about at the strange little cave, its walls coated with hoar- 

 frost even within two feet of the brilliant flames. 



" Where did you bury Bentzen, Paul? " I asked. 



" I have not buried him, sir," was the reply. " He lies in 

 there." 



I lit a little lamp — a bicycle lamp ; it had been here in Wash- 

 ington — and walked into the darkened portion of the hut, partly 

 partitioned from the remainder of the apartment, to which Paul 

 had pointed. As soon as my eyes had become accustomed to 

 the peculiar light which the frosted walls and roof reflected from 

 the dim lamp, I saw at my feet a one-man sleeping bag, bearing 

 evidences that it had been occupied by a living man the night 

 before. By its side, within arm's reach, lay another bag. This 

 one was occupied, and had been for several months. Bag and 

 contents were now frozen as solid as a rock. For two months 

 Bjoervig had slept by the body of his dead comrade — two months 

 of solitude amid the Arctic darkness when night was not to be 

 distinguished from day — two months alone with the dead in this 

 Arctic tomb. 



Bjoervig had not buried Bentzen because he had promised him 

 he would not, and he had promised because of the sick man's 

 fear that if buried in the cold and darkness it would be in such 

 manner that the bears and foxes' might get at his remains. 



Notwithstanding this dreadful ordeal through which he had 

 passed, Bjoervig was sane, cheerful, almost normal. He was a 

 little nervous, and had difficulty in getting sleep; but next day 

 lie helped as drag out the body and carefully bury it in a hole 

 which the wind had hollowed out. It was a bitter day, 45 below 

 zero, mid ;i fierce blast blowing down from the glaciers. But 

 the most industrious man of us all, after the little funeral cere- 

 mony was over, was Paul. For hours he was busy chinking up 

 all the openings in the walls around the rude tomb. " I prom- 

 ised him the bears and foxes shouldn't get him," he explained. 



