res. Kyutah, the Eskimo who had gone back to land with his
broken sledge, came in during the night, but Kudlooktoo failed to put in
an appearance. Thus the end of our first day over the polar ice found
the expedition one man short.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE FIRST OPEN WATER

The first serious obstacle of the sledge journey was encountered the
second day out from land. The day was cloudy, the wind continuing to
blow from the east with unabated violence. Again I intentionally brought
up the rear of my division, in order to see that everything was going
right and that every one was accounted for. The going was much the same
as on the previous day, rough and trying to the endurance of men, dogs
and sledges.

When we had made about three-quarters of a march we saw ahead of us a
dark ominous cloud upon the northern horizon, which always means open
water. There is always fog in the neighborhood of the leads. The open
water supplies the evaporation, the cold air acts as a condenser, and
when the wind is blowing just right this forms a fog so dense that at
times it looks as black as the smoke of a prairie fire.

Sure enough, just ahead of us were black spots against the snow which I
knew to be my various divisions held up by a lead. When we came up with
them I saw a lane of open water, about a quarter of a mile wide, which
had formed since the captain had passed the day before. The wind had
been getting in its work!

I gave the word to camp (there was nothing else to do), and while the
igloos were being built, Marvin and MacMillan made a sounding from the
edge of the lead, getting ninety-six fathoms.

This march to the edge of the lead put us beyond the British record of
83 deg. 20' made by Captain Markham, R. N., north of Cape Joseph Henry, May
12, 1876.

Before daylight the next morning we heard the grinding of the ice, which
told us that the lead was at last crushing together, and I gave the
signal to the other three igloos, by pounding with a hatchet on the ice
floor of my igloo, to fire up and get breakfast in a hurry. The morning
was clear again, excepting for the wind haze, but the wind still
continued to blow with unabated violence.

With the first of the daylight we were hurrying across the lead on the
raftering young ice, which was moving, crushing, and piling up with the
closing of the sides of the lead. If the reader will imagine crossing a
river on a succession of gigantic shingles, one, two, or three de