i6o 
SCOTT'S LAST EXPEDITION [February 
8 p.m. — It is blowing a blizzard — wind moderate — 
temperature mild. 
Impressions 
The deep, dreamless sleep that follows the long march 
and the satisfying supper. 
The surface crust which breaks with a snap and sinks 
with a snap, startling men and animals. 
Custom robs it of dread but not of interest to the 
dogs, who come to imagine such sounds as the result 
of some strange freak of hidden creatures. They be- 
come all alert and spring from side to side, hoping to 
catch the creature. The hope clings in spite of continual 
disappointment. 13 
A dog must be either eating, asleep, or interested. His 
eagerness to snatch at interest, to chain his attention to 
something, is almost pathetic. The monotony of marching 
kills him. 
This is the fearfullest difficulty for the dog driver on 
a snow plain without leading marks or objects in sight. 
The dog is almost human in its demand for living interest, 
yet fatally less than human in its inability to foresee. 
The dog lives for the day, the hour, even the moment. 
The human being can live and support discomfort for a 
future. 
Sunday, February 5.— Corner Camp, No. 6. The 
blizzard descended on us at about 4 p.m. yesterday ; for 
twenty-four hours it continued with moderate wind, 
then the wind shifting slightly to the west came with 
much greater violence. Now it is blowing very hard and 
