490 
SCOTTS LAST EXPEDITION [December 
snow blindness in one eye. I hope this rest will help him, 
but he says it has been painful for a long time. There 
cannot be good cheer in the camp in such weather, but it is 
ready to break out again. In the brief spell of hope last 
night one heard laughter. 
Midnight. Little or no improvement. The barometer 
is rising — perhaps there is hope in that. Surely few 
situations could be more exasperating than this of forced 
inactivity when every day and indeed one hour counts. 
To be here watching the mottled wet green walls of our 
tent, the glistening wet bamboos, the bedraggled sopping 
socks and loose articles dangling in the middle, the saddened 
countenances of my companions — to hear the everlasting 
patter of the falling snow and the ceaseless rattle of the 
fluttering canvas — to feel the wet clinging dampness of 
clothes and everything touched, and to know that without 
there is but a blank wall of white on every side — these are 
the physical surroundings. Add the stress of sighted 
failure of our whole plan, and anyone must find the cir- 
cumstances unenviable. But yet, after all, one can go 
on striving, endeavouring to find a stimulation in the 
difficulties that arise. 
Friday, December 8. — Camp 30. Hoped against hope 
for better conditions, to wake to the mournfullcst snow 
and wind as usual. We had breakfast at 10, and at noon 
the wind dropped. We set about digging out the sledges, 
no light task. We then shifted our tent sites. All tents 
had been reduced to the smallest volume by the gradual 
pressure of snow. The old sites arc deep pits with 
hollowed-in wet centres. The rc-sctting of the tent has 
