A LAST LOOK. on the snow the moment they were left to themselves; and we, dragging ourselves inside the hut which McDonald had made to shelter his sick companion, fell into a dead, dead sleep. Jensen noted the time. We had been twenty-two hours on the way, since leaving our shelter beneath the ice-cliff.
When we awoke, the storm had died away, and the sun was shining brightly. McDonald had looked after the dogs, and had ready for us a hot pot of coffee and an abundant breakfast, which thirty-four hours' fasting had prepared us fully to appreciate. Refreshed by this, I climbed the hill-side for a last look at the sea which we were leaving. The gale had told somewhat upon it. The dark water-sky to the northeast had followed us down the coast, the wind had acted upon the open places in the ice, and the little waves had eaten away their margins, and magnified them greatly, while many of the old floes had finally yielded to the immense pressure of the wind, and had moved in their winter moorings, tearing up the rotten ice about them. Several cracks had opened almost to the shore, and the "hinge" of the ice-foot had mainly tumbled away.
Jensen was better, but still moved with much difficulty and pain. By sitting on the sledge, however, he thought that he should be able to drive his dogs; so I gave Knorr our entire cargo. This cargo was now reduced to small dimensions, and consisted of nothing but our buffalo-skins, rifle, my instruments, and a few geological specimens. Our food was consumed to the last pound, and hence we must go supperless if we did not reach our next cache, where, if the bears should not have discovered it, we had one meal buried under a heap of stones.
