The Greenland Question—Departure of the Kite—Peary breaks his Leg—A Camp made—Habits of the Eskimo—A Brush with Walrus—"Caching" Food—An Arctic Christmas Feast—Peary starts for the Great Ice-Cap—A Snow Sahara—The Ice-Cap Crossed—A Marvellous Discovery—Sails on Sledges—A Safe Return.

The disaster and suffering which characterised the termination of the Greely and Polaris expeditions did not tend to recommend Arctic exploration as a national enterprise to the Government of the United States. A vast amount of highly valuable information had been obtained, not only by these expeditions, but also by the expedition sent out by the British Government under the command of Sir George Nares. And, in addition to the information, a further knowledge had been gained, the knowledge that the same spirit of indomitable pluck, the same tireless energy, and the same loyalty and devotion to duty dominated both branches of the great English-speaking race. The magnificent heroism displayed by the explorers from the Alert and Discovery found a parallel in the later experiences and exploits of the American expeditions, and both British and American Governments felt that, for a time at least, they were justified in resting on the laurels their gallant sons had won.

But if the Governments were satisfied, the restless spirit of the race could not remain quiet while secrets still remained in the keeping of the frozen North. The Pole was still untouched, and, more than that, there were secrets to be wrested from localities not quite so remote.

The discoveries along the north coast of Greenland opened up the very interesting question whether the land did not extend right up to the Pole itself. As far as any one had penetrated to the north of the coast, land was still to be seen farther on; it was an open question whether this great ice-covered country was an island, with its northern shores swept by the Polar ice-floes, or whether it extended almost to the dimensions of a continent in the Polar region.

The problem appealed strongly to two explorers whose names, by reason of their exploits during recent years, have become familiar. They are Nansen and Peary. The former, by his dash for the Pole, during which he surpassed all previous records of the "farthest North," has dwarfed his Greenland performances; the latter, by his journey of 1300 miles over the ice-crowned interior of Greenland, decided the insular character of the country. It is that journey which forms the subject of this chapter.

Lieutenant Robert E. Peary, an officer in the engineering department of the United States Navy, failing to obtain Government support for his scheme of an overland journey to the northern coast of Greenland, was supported by the Philadelphia Academy of National Science. The expedition was necessarily small, but that did not affect its utility. It was, moreover, unique, by the inclusion of Lieutenant Peary's wife as one of its members; the account which she has given of her sojourn in high latitudes is one of the most interesting of books on the Arctic regions.

The party left New York on June 6, 1891, on board the steamer Kite, for Whale Sound, on the north-west coast of Greenland. The voyage was satisfactory in every way until June 24, when an unfortunate accident befell the leader.

The Kite had encountered some ice which was heavy enough to check her progress, and, to get through it, the captain had to ram his ship. This necessitated a constant change from going ahead to going astern, and, as there was a good deal of loose ice floating about, the rudder frequently came into collision with it when the vessel was backing. Lieutenant Peary, who was on deck during one of these manoeuvres, went over to the wheelhouse to see how the rudder was bearing the strain. As he stood behind the wheelhouse, the rudder struck a heavy piece of ice and was forcibly jerked over, the tiller, as it swung, catching Lieutenant Peary by the leg and pinning him against the wall of the house. There was no escape from the position, and the pressure of the tiller gradually increased until the bone of the leg snapped.

The doctor, who formed one of the party, immediately set the limb; but the sufferer refused to return home, and when, a few days later, the Kite reached McCormick Bay, he was carried ashore strapped to a plank.

The material for a comfortably-sized house was part of the outfit of the expedition, and this was in course of erection the day that Lieutenant Peary was landed. For the accommodation of himself and wife, a tent was put up behind the half-completed house, and, as a high wind arose, the remainder of the party returned on board the Kite.

As the hours passed away the wind became stronger. The tent swayed to and fro, and Mrs. Peary, as she sat beside her invalid and sleeping husband, realised what it was to be lonely and helpless. She and her husband were the only people on shore for miles; her husband was unable to move, and she was without even a revolver with which to defend herself. What, she asked herself, would be the result if a bear came into the tent? She could not make the people on board the Kite hear, and she was without a weapon. Throughout the stay in the North, Mrs. Peary proved herself not only to be a woman of strong nerve and self-reliance, but also an excellent shot with either gun, rifle, or revolver. It was, however, as much as she could stand when her anxious ears caught the sound of heavy breathing outside the tent.

For a time she sat still, fearing to disturb her husband, until the continuance of the sound compelled her to look out. A school of white whales were playing close inshore, and it was the noise of their blowing, softened by the wind, which had so disturbed her. But so self-possessed was she over it that her husband did not know till long afterwards the anxiety she had experienced during the first night she spent on the Greenland shore.

The following day rapid progress was made with the house, and some of the party stayed on shore for the night, so that there was always some one within call of the invalid's tent until the house was completed and he was removed into it. By that time the Kite had started home again, and the little party of seven were left to make all their arrangements for the winter.

They had determined to rely entirely upon their own exertions for the supply of meat for the winter and also to obtain their fur clothing on the spot, killing the animals necessary for the material and engaging some of the local Eskimo to make up the suits. Deer would give both meat and fur, and as there was every prospect of the neighbourhood affording them in plenty, as soon as the house was up and the stores packed, the majority started away in search of game.

The spot where they were landed, and where they had erected their camp, was on a verdure-covered slope lying between the sea and the high range of bluff hills which towered about 1000 feet over them. In the spring the ground was covered with grass and flowers; the bay in front was full of seal, walrus, whales, and other marine inhabitants, and along the hills behind experience showed that game was present in abundance. The Etah Eskimo, the most northerly people in existence, lived their quaint, out-of-the-world lives along the shores of the bay and neighbouring inlets, and, as soon as the camp was settled, they were kept busily employed in the making of fur garments, proving themselves docile and peaceful. It was often difficult for the members of the expedition to realise that the site of their camp, with the abundance of food to be had, was only from fifty to eighty miles from the spots where the castaways of the Polaris suffered so acutely and the members of the Greely expedition slowly starved, many of them to death. For more than a year the little party of seven lived in good health, without a suggestion of scurvy making its appearance and with only one fatality, which, moreover, was accidental.

The first hunting expedition was in search of deer, and everybody took part in it except the leader, who was still crippled by his injured leg and confined to his room, and his wife. For two or three days the hunters were away, for they were fortunate in discovering a herd of deer which they followed until all were bagged. Then, with as many as they could convey, leaving the others to be fetched later, they set out for the camp. Their approach was duly signalled, and upon hearing that they were returning laden, Lieutenant Peary, for the first time, hobbled out of the house on crutches. As they came up he rested on one leg and his crutches, while he photographed them and their trophies, after which the double occasion was celebrated by a banquet in which venison played an important part.

The deer skins were very important additions to the stock of material from which the winter clothing was to be made, but other varieties were needed, especially of the marine animals, as well as some native tailors to fashion them into coats, hoods, mittens, and all the other articles of Arctic wear. A boat party was therefore despatched along the shores of Inglefield Gulf, to spy out the localities where walrus was to be found, and to induce some of the natives of a village, seen from the Kite, to come over to the camp and sew the new garments.

GROUP OF SMITH SOUND ESKIMO.

The most northerly inhabitants of the world. Lieut. Peary records that the tribe numbered 253 on September 1st, 1895. Between that date and August 1, 1896, an epidemic of influenza had reduced them to 229. In August 1897, they numbered 234.

The party was successful in both instances, for a number of walrus were seen and an Eskimo family came back by the boat. The "huskies" consisted of a man, his wife, and two little children, and they moved with all their belongings. They were little people, under five feet in height and almost as broad as they were long, clad in fur jumpers and short breeches with sealskin boots reaching over their knees. The costume of both adults was very similar, the only practical difference being in the tunic or jumper, that of the woman having the hood longer and deeper for the accommodation of her infant. They had broad, good-natured faces, not especially handsome nor intelligent in appearance, but distinctly dirty. In fact, the use of water, other than for drinking, did not appear to be known to the primitive people, and it was very much a question whether they had ever tried the experiment of a wash. Once Mrs. Peary was tempted to give one of the little ones a bath, and she records how intensely amazed it was at being put into the water, although it was more than two years old. Surviving the shock, however, it manifested its pleasure by lustily kicking and splashing. Perhaps later it enjoyed a well-merited honour amongst its own people as the only one of the tribe who ever passed through the extraordinary ordeal of soap and water.

In consequence of their innocence of water as a cleansing medium, the "huskies," as the Peary party affectionately termed them, had two very distinguishing characteristics not entirely pleasing to more civilised people. They carried around with them a distinctly impressive aroma, and also thriving colonies of what are politely termed parasites.

In the matter of clothes they carry their wardrobes on their backs. Fur garments do not wear out very rapidly, and, when a "husky" is full grown, the suit of clothes, made in honour of the event, remains in constant wear until one of two things happens. If the man kills a bear, he has a costume made of the skin and discards the ordinary sealskin suit for it. If he does not kill a bear, he wears the sealskin suit until it no longer keeps him warm, when he gets another. In their snow houses during the winter and storms, if the temperature is too warm for them in their thick clothing, they take the clothing off; being a primitive people, their manners are as simple as their minds.

The first arrivals at the Peary camp were, however, very useful people. There being no trees in this far northern region, and wood, consequently, being one of their most valued treasures, they were for some time unable to comprehend how so much timber had been acquired to build the house. When they saw a fire made in the stove of refuse bits of wood they were still more amazed. Never before had they seen so much fire all at once, and the man, growing curious, kept on feeling the stove to see what the effect would be. When it was hot enough to burn his hand he developed a wholesome respect for it, and preferred to regard the, to him, uncanny object from a distance.

The problem of how the sewing was to be done was rather a difficult one to the white people for a time. To allow the furs to be taken into the Eskimo tent was to invite the introduction of an insect population of which it would be impossible to get rid later. On the other hand, to allow the huskies to enter the house too frequently was equally dangerous from the sanitary point of view. A compromise was effected, by the Eskimo woman doing the sewing near the door of the house with some one always keeping an eye on her. Later on, when it was found that little danger existed from the spread of insects if reasonable care were taken, the workers sat inside the house. They were fairly deft in handling the needle, and the suits they made for the party were all excellent and serviceable. These were made on the native pattern, and the experience of Lieutenant Peary and his comrade Astrup in their journey over the great ice-cap proved that the native pattern was the best.

When the woman was set to work, a boat expedition in search of walrus was organised, with the Eskimo as guide, Lieutenant Peary and his wife also going. They had not proceeded very many miles up Inglefield Gulf before a light breeze when they saw, on a floating piece of ice, a dozen or so of the animals huddled together apparently asleep. Sailing gently towards them, every one with a rifle ready, a sudden puff of wind sent the boat ahead quicker and farther than was intended, and it struck the ice. The walrus, never having seen a sailing boat before, looked round at it without paying any more attention than if it had been another piece of ice. But the sight of so many valuable creatures within reach of his harpoon was too much for the little Eskimo, and he buried the weapon into the nearest.

At once the attitude of the walrus changed. The wounded member of the tribe tried to escape, bellowing in its pain, and the rest slid off the ice into the water and surrounded the boat. Others from neighbouring ice patches charged rapidly on to the scene, and the situation of the boat and its occupants was dangerous in the extreme. The poor Eskimo, his face showing the terror he felt, crouched down in the boat, evidently expecting to be annihilated by the furious animals that surged round. As they came up to the boat, they tried to get their great powerful tusks over the gunwales, and, had one succeeded in doing so, there would have been slight hopes of any one escaping. Had the boat been capsized, no one could possibly have survived, and to keep the angry crowd off was no easy matter.

All around they swarmed, and not less than 250 were estimated to be engaged in the attack. Lieutenant Peary, with his injured leg, sat in the stern of the boat, firing at them, and the other white men also kept up a fusillade, Mrs. Peary, again giving evidence of her strong nerve and courage, sitting beside her husband and loading the weapons as soon as they were emptied. The walrus came on in bunches to the attack, and, immediately they were fired at, all those nearest to the boat leaped out of the water, and then plunged out of sight. There was always the danger of one of the huge creatures rising under the boat, and so capsizing it; but the occupants had no time to think of this. Directly one batch jumped and disappeared, another batch hastened forward to greet the volley of bullets in the same way as the others, and be in turn succeeded by another batch!

The boat was meanwhile gradually approaching the shore, and as the water became more shallow the walrus exhibited less desire to come to close quarters, until, at last, the adventurers found that they had beaten off the last of the swarm. The main body had retreated far up the gulf, only a few remaining near. Several of those which had been shot, however, were floating on the surface of the water, and it was decided to go back and secure them, even at the risk of another attack. Already some of them were sinking, and many must have gone down while the fight was in progress. There was a necessity for haste if any of the slain were to be secured, and with rifles loaded and ready for a fresh attack, the boat was headed towards the floating carcases.

The operation of securing them was performed without any interruption from the survivors, and a run was then made for the shore, where the Eskimo said a lot of seal-skins were "cached." This is the term used in the Arctic regions to denote the local method of storing food or possessions. A space is hollowed out in the ground, which, even in the summer time, is frozen hard a few feet below the surface. The articles to be stored having been placed in the space, it is covered over with stones, and the "cache" is completed. Throughout the winter the contents become frozen into a solid mass, which, protected by the stones or other covering, does not thaw out during the short summer, and so remains in a good state of preservation for an almost indefinite period.

Occasionally the "cache" fails to preserve the articles of food entirely in that state which by the European is termed "fresh"; but as they rarely have recourse to "cached" provisions, it does not matter very much. The Eskimo, who constantly preserves his winter supplies in this manner, has, happily for himself, easier notions about the state and quality of his food. This was brought home to the party very forcibly. They had visited several "caches," and obtained enough seal-skin for their purpose, and, having enjoyed some refreshment, were considering their return. The Eskimo, Ikwa, then told them that, as all the flesh at the camp was recently killed, he and his family did not like it. There was, he said, a fine seal cached in the neighbourhood, which would form a delicious store for him and his family, and if the leader allowed him to move it to the boat, and convey it to the encampment, he would be prepared to yield some of it to the members of the party for their own special enjoyment. The seal was a beauty, he said, and just in the very pink of condition. The necessary permission having been given, Ikwa hurried away for his treasure.

Shortly after, the members of the party noticed a strange penetrating odour in the air which they at first attributed to the flayed walrus. It steadily increased, until they were unable to tolerate it, and started out to seek the cause. As they emerged from under the shelter of the jutting rock where they had been resting, they descried the little Eskimo staggering towards them under the burden of a seal almost as large as himself. The creature had been "cached" about two years, and was in such a state that gentles fell from it at every step the man took, and, as Mrs. Peary recorded in her diary, both the sight and the scent of it overpowered the white people. But to Ikwa it was just in good condition for eating, and he was especially indignant when he was made to relinquish it. His clothes, however, would not part with the odour, and for many days the members of the expedition had reason to remember that Eskimo like their game high.

As the time passed, and winter approached, every one was kept busy preparing for the long dark night, and for the journey over the ice-cap which was to be undertaken directly spring began. Several families of Eskimo were now residing near the encampment, the women mostly engaged in making winter fur garments for the members of the expedition, and the men in hunting. As dogs were required for the sledging expedition, constant bartering went on between the Eskimo and the white men, and the latter undertook occasional journeys to localities where other members of the tribe were encamped.

A great deal of very interesting information was thus derived about the natives, who are, as has been said, the most northerly living people in the world. Mrs. Peary, as the first white woman they had ever seen, was a particular object of attention. As their custom is for men and women to dress very much alike, they could not quite understand Mrs. Peary's costume, and when the first arrivals saw her and Lieutenant Peary together, they looked from one to the other, and ultimately had to ask which of the two was the white woman.

TWO NORTH GREENLAND HUNTERS.

The tribe did not number 300 in all; they held no communication with the Eskimo farther south, and, except for the occasional visit of a sealer or a whaler, knew nothing of the outer world. None had ever seen a tree growing, nor had they ever penetrated over the ridge of land which lay back from the coast, and over which glimpses were caught of the great ice-cap. The latter, they said, was where the Eskimo went when they died, and if any man attempted to go so far the spirits would get hold of him and keep him there. They consequently warned Lieutenant Peary against venturing. There was no seal up there; no bear; no deer; only ice and snow and spirits, so what reason had a man for going?

Their belongings were extremely simple. A kayak, a sledge, one or two dogs, a tent made of walrus-hide or seal-skin, some weapons, and a stone lamp, comprised, with the clothes they wore, their property. Wood was the most valuable article they knew, because they could use it for so many purposes, and had so little of it. The possession of knives and needles was greatly desired; but scissors did not appeal to them, since what they could not cut with a knife they could bite with their close even teeth. Money had neither a suggestion nor a use with them; trade, if carried on at all, was merely the bartering of one article for another.

The animals they liked best were dogs and seals; the former being their beast of burden and constant companion, the latter the provider of food, raiment, covering, and light. Every seal killed belonged to the man who killed it, but the rules of the tribe required that all larger animals should be shared among the members in the neighbourhood; the skin of a bear, however, remaining in the possession of the man who secured it. But so unsophisticated and easy-going are the contented little people that individual property scarcely exists with them; every one is ready and willing to share what he has with another if need be. The articles borrowed, however, are always returned, or made good if broken or lost. No one can either read or write; the boys are taught how to hunt, how to manage the kayak and sledge, and how to make and use the weapons of the chase, while the girls are taught how to sew the fur garments, and keep the stone lamp burning with blubber and moss, so as to prepare the drinking water and the frizzled seal flesh they eat. For the rest, their chief desire is to live as happily as they can, and this, according to those who have been amongst them, they manage to do merrily and well.

During the visits paid to the different encampments by Lieutenant Peary and his wife, about a score of dogs were obtained, a number which would be sufficient to carry out the work of the ensuing spring. They were usually obtained in exchange for needles and knives, but the purpose for which they were needed always formed a subject of wonder to the unambitious "huskies."

By the time that a return was made to the house—Redcliff, as the explorers named it—the season was well advanced towards winter. The roof and sides were all covered with walrus hide, and moss, gathered in the early autumn, was stuffed into any crevice through which the cold wind might find a way. The drifting snow soon piled up round the walls and over the roof, and the extra covering added to the warmth and comfort of those within. Fur clothing was now worn generally, and the little party, keeping in good health and spirits, managed to pass the gloomy period of winter without anything to mar their contentment.

Christmas they celebrated in proper form by having a sumptuous dinner, the menu of which, preserved by Mrs. Peary, is worthy of being quoted, as showing what can be done in a place where shops are unknown and darkness reigns at midday. The feast consisted of salmon, rabbit pie and green peas, venison with cranberry sauce, corn and tomatoes, plum-pudding and brandy sauce, apricot pie, pears, sweets, nuts, raisins, and coffee: a very creditable repast to be put on the table of an Arctic residence.

When every one had satisfied the demands of appetite, the table was cleared, and then re-spread for the benefit of the "huskies," who were bidden to partake of Christmas fare. A somewhat different assortment was prepared for the visitors, the dishes consisting of milk punch, venison stew, cranberry tart, biscuits, sweets, raisins, and coffee. This was certainly a variation to their ordinary food of seal or walrus flesh and water, and they showed their appreciation of it by leaving no crumbs and sticking to their seats until, at half-past ten, they were gently told that it was time they went home. Then they left, but the next day they came again, and were perhaps not the first who, having enjoyed a hearty Christmas dinner, felt disposed to complain that Christmas can only come once a year.

At the first approach of spring the dogs were given plenty of exercise in the sledges, and by the middle of April all was ready for the great journey over the ice-cap. Lieutenant Peary had quite recovered from the injury to his leg, and was impatient to be off. The plan of operations was for himself and a young Norwegian, named Astrup, to push on with one sledge over the unknown interior, but for the first part of the journey a supporting party and sledge accompanied them.

April 30 saw them start from the house towards the bluff range which ran along the coast. The two sledges, each with a team of ten dogs, were laden with supplies and scientific instruments. Mrs. Peary, who was staying behind at the house, watched them slowly go out of sight, the Eskimo women consoling her with the opinion that none of the party would ever come back. The return of the supporting sledge a few weeks later was rather a blow to the prophecy, but they tried to make up for the first mistake by asserting their confidence that the other sledge was doomed.

The two parties kept together until the coastal range was surmounted, and the beginning of the ice-cap was reached. Here the sledge which was to do the great journey was laden with a full load, and the two explorers started forward, Lieutenant Peary leading the way with a staff to which was attached a silk banner—the Stars and Stripes—worked by Mrs. Peary.

The first of the ice-cap was a stretch of some fifteen miles of ice, formed into enormous dome-shaped masses. They toiled up one side but travelled easily down the other, and so on, up and down, until they had attained an altitude of nearly 9000 feet above the sea-level, when they found that they were on a vast expanse of snow. The white unbroken surface stretched away as far as the eye could reach, unbroken by a ridge or rise, everywhere flat, white and immense. This was the great ice-cap, the frozen covering of the interior of Greenland, the unknown region where no man had yet set foot.

But it was a mistake to term it an ice-cap. They found it to be rather a desert, a Sahara with dry drifting snow instead of the dry burning sand. And, like Sahara, it had its days of storm, when the snow whirled in clouds just as the sand rises before the scorching blast of the simoom. Very wonderful was the first experience of this Greenland dust-storm. The sky overhead was filled with dull grey clouds, heavy and opaque, and the gloom spread all around, so that whichever way one looked there was the same impenetrable veil of grey gloomy haze. The snow lost its dazzling whiteness and took instead the tint of the gloom of the surrounding atmosphere. Then the wind came, at first in fitful gusts but later growing into a steady blow, the opening squalls lifting the dry surface snow and whirling it up in the air. The steady breeze caught it and carried it along in a constantly moving stream some two feet deep, and it was then that the effect of the storm was most pronounced. The drifting particles of snow made a curious rustling noise as they moved, and as they whirled round the travellers' legs the feet were hidden beneath the dense moving veil. As a result, it was as though one were walking on nothing and going nowhere, for the grey gloom all around made one unconscious of either direction or space, and the moving snow prevented one seeing the feet or realising that there was anything solid under them.

The steady hum of the drifting snow, together with its movement, made the brain dizzy, and the two explorers generally found it necessary to form a camp when such a storm came on, the snow soon piling up against their shelter tent and effectually protecting them from the wind. Then, when the breeze had died away and the snow ceased moving, they were able to dig out their sledge and proceed.

A distinct contrast to these stormy days was given by the period of clear sunshine. Then the sky, innocent of a cloud, was a wonderful blue vault overhead, while the snow-covered plateau stretched away on all sides until it was lost in the distance of the horizon. The wonderfully clear air enabled the explorers to see a great distance ahead. At the end of the second day's march after reaching this great snow desert, they found that the surface was gradually sloping north and south. They were on the dividing ridge and, as they passed over on to the downward slope, their progress was naturally at a more rapid rate. A storm, such as has been described, accompanied by falling snow, overtook them, and for three days they had to stay in their shelter. When at length the weather moderated and they were able to get out again they discovered, before resuming the journey, that the dogs meanwhile had eaten six pounds of cranberry jam and the foot off one of the sleeping-bags—a fairly good example of a dog's appetite during a snowstorm.

On May 31 in magnificently clear weather they looked out upon a scene on which no white man had ever yet gazed. In his description of the journey the leader wrote: "We looked down into the basin of the Petermann Glacier, the greatest amphitheatre of snow and rugged ice that human eye has ever seen." Away beyond it, a range of black mountains towered in dome-shaped hills, and they made their camp with the expectation of being able to see more of the distant range at the end of another march. But by the time they were able to resume their march a thick fog had come into the air, and for three days they could only see the snow at their feet. They directed their course entirely by compass, but as they were unable to see long distances ahead, they were unprepared for a change in the surface. Before they could avoid it, they found themselves amongst rough ice and open crevices. They were getting on to the Sherard Osborne Glacier, and, in the misty weather they were experiencing, it was difficult to get back on to the smooth ice again. Over a fortnight was spent in getting beyond this rough ground, and at length, on the weather clearing, they found that straight ahead of them a range of hills showed along the horizon above the ice-cap. The appearance of the hills directly in their path decided them to turn their course from due east to south-east, and they were soon able to make out the line of a deep channel running from the north-east to the south-west.

On July 1, after fifty-seven days of travel, they came to the limits of the ice-cap and stood, silent and amazed, looking down from the summit of the snow desert across a wide open plain covered with vegetation, with here and there a snow drift showing white, and with herds of musk oxen contentedly grazing over it. Such a discovery was absolutely so unexpected that at first they could scarcely believe their eyes. There was no sign of any human habitation on the land, and for all that could be learned to the contrary, they were the first human beings who had ever trodden upon that plain, on which the yellow Arctic poppies were waving in bloom and over which the drone of the humble bee sounded, though for hundreds of miles around it the accumulated snow of centuries lay frozen into the great mysterious snow-cap and its glaciers.

Having proved that they really were not dreaming, they shot a musk ox, which they used for their own and their dogs' refreshment. Then they stacked their stores and set out with reduced loads across the plain. They walked for four days, exploring, surveying, and examining; and on the fourth of July, the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence by the United States, they stood on the summit of a magnificent range of cliffs, 3500 feet high, overlooking a large bay, which, in honour of the date, they named Independence Bay.

The latitude was nearly 82° N., and Lieutenant Peary, writing of the discovery, says: "It was almost impossible for us to believe that we were standing on the northern shore of Greenland as we gazed from the summit of this precipitous cliff with the most brilliant sunshine all about us, with yellow poppies growing between the rocks around our feet and a herd of musk oxen in the valley behind us. In that valley we had also found the dandelion in bloom and had heard the heavy drone and seen the bullet-like flight of the humble bee."

For a week the two remained in this northern valley, surveying and making observations and finding it difficult to believe that a distance of 600 miles of frozen snow separated them from the nearest living people. Not a vestige of a human habitation was found, and nothing to show that man had ever been there before. At the end of the week, with a good supply of fresh meat from the musk oxen and a collection of specimens of plants and insects packed on the sledges, the return journey was commenced. Both dogs and men were invigorated by the rest they had had, and they were able to travel homewards at the rate of thirty miles a day over the smooth surface of the ice-cap.

They carefully adhered to a recognised routine of work. When they had travelled the regulation number of hours they halted for their rest. The one whose turn it was to prepare the supper set to work to arrange what they termed their kitchen, while the other attended to the dogs, feeding them and removing them from their harness. The "kitchen" was constructed by removing snow in blocks from a space eight feet long by three feet wide by eighteen inches deep. The snow-blocks were built up along one side and half another, so as to form an angle presented towards that quarter from whence the wind was blowing. Over the top of this a canvas was stretched, forming a well-sheltered nook, in which the spirit stove was lighted and the meal prepared. For supper they had usually, half a pound of pemmican (a preparation of finely chopped lean meat with raisins and wheaten flour), one cup of preserved milk, tea, and biscuits. The morning meal, or breakfast, consisted of pemmican, biscuits, two ounces of butter, and two cups of tea, and after travelling from four to six hours, they stopped for lunch, which consisted of more pemmican and tea.

As soon as supper was ready the two enjoyed it together, and very soon afterwards they crept into their sleeping-bags, the one who was acting as cook having also to keep an eye on the dogs, in order to prevent them making attacks on the stores. To obviate this, after the first few days, the dogs were usually tethered for the night.

Occasionally, when the wind was favourable, sails were erected on the sledges and the progress was then very easy and rapid; but when the wind was from the opposite direction both dogs and men had an arduous task. The return journey was accomplished with greater facility than the outward trip, and on August 8, as they reached the top of one of the dome-like formations near the coastal range, they saw, on the slope of the next dome, a party of men approaching. The Kite had meantime returned to Inglefield Gulf to take the expedition back to the United States, and several of those who had come up in her set out to meet the two explorers. By the time that the combined parties reached the shore, every one was on board the Kite waiting to welcome the two wanderers, whose enterprise had terminated so successfully, not the least delighted being Mrs. Peary, whose patience had been somewhat tried by the persistent way in which the "huskies" had foretold disaster to her husband. But all is well that ends well, and in his return, victorious, the long lonely hours were forgotten.