ski running and towing) and hung
about him whilst keeping up a speed on ski that made the best of us
sweat.

Debenham whilst in the neighbourhood of the Turk's Head found much of
interest to geologists, and was pleased at what we collected in the way
of information. "Deb" was one of the best cooks in the expedition, so we
fared well whilst he was with Gran and myself.

Gran kept us alive with his reminiscences, which were always amusing, and
he certainly possessed the liveliest imagination in the Expedition. He
ought to have been a brigand chief. Sometimes his imaginative foresight
led him to commit slight breaches of discipline, as the following
anecdote will show. On midwinter night when our table was gay and festive
Gran noticed an unopened pint bottle of champagne towards the end of the
feast, when "bubbley" was being superseded by port and liqueurs. Cleverly
he coaxed the champagne bottle on to his lap, under his jersey, and
finally into his bunk, where it remained hidden until such opportunity
should arise for its consumption.

Gran was too generous to finish it himself, and too wise to divide it
with many--a pint was for two and no more.

It so happened that whilst we two were working around Glacier Tongue this
spring doing survey work we had to come in to Cape Evans for some
purpose. We had a hard run out on ski to our camp, and my short legs
found great effort necessary to keep pace with the swarthy ski-runner.
Once arrived at the survey camp I puffed and blew and sank nearly
exhausted on my sleeping-bag in the tent. I told Gran we must have some
tea before re-commencing work, and reached out to get the cooker ready.
Gran asked me what I fancied most in the world, and my reply was--a pint
of champagne.

He laughed and asked me what I would give him for that same, to which I
articulated, "FIVE POUNDS," and sank my tired head between my knees.
Noiselessly the Norwegian glided from the tent to reappear with the
stolen champagne bottle. I smiled delightedly, and soon we were hard at
work cooking the champagne into its liquid state once more, for it was of
course hard frozen in the low temperature.

When we got the stuff melted it had lost its "fizz," but it tasted
nectar-like even from our aluminium sledge mugs, and such was the
stimulus from it that we worked until darkness had set in. I have never
paid the five pounds, for the reason that Gran chose a dinner party at
the Grand Hotel, Christiania instead: