222 
T n E BURRO W. 
strength enough left to dig a burrow. We knew it 
soon after as Cape Misery. 
The dogs and sledge were dragged in, and Petersen 
and myself, reclining “ spoon-fashion,” cowered among 
them. The snow piled over us all, and we were very 
soon so roofed in and quilted round that the storm 
seemed to rage far outside of us. We could only hear 
the wind droning like a great fly-wheel, except when a 
surge of greater malignity would sweep up over our 
burial-place and sift the snow upon the surface like 
hail. Our greatest enemy here was warmth. Our fur 
jumpers had been literally torn oft our backs by the 
wind; but the united respiration of dogs and men 
melted the snow around us, and we were soon wet to 
the skin. It was a noisome vapor-bath, and we ex¬ 
perienced its effects in an alarming tendency to syn¬ 
cope and loss of power. 
Is it possible to imagine a juncture of more comic 
annoyance than that which now introduced itself 
among the terrors of our position ? Toodla, our master- 
dog, was seized with a violent fit; and, as their custom 
is, his companions indulged in a family conflict upon 
the occasion, which was only mediated, after much 
effort, at the sacrifice of all that remained of Petersen’s 
pantaloons and drawers. 
We had all the longing for repose that accompanies 
extreme prostration, and had been fearing every mo¬ 
ment that the combatants would bring the snow down 
upon us. At last down came our whole canopy, and 
we were exposed in an instant to the fury of the ele- 
