r nearly a quarter of a century,
until I had come to regard them with a kindly and personal interest,
which any man must feel with regard to the members of any inferior race
who had been accustomed to respect and depend upon him during the
greater part of his adult life. We left them all better supplied with
the simple necessities of arctic life than they had ever been before,
while those who had participated in the sledge journey and the winter
and spring work on the northern shore of Grant Land were really so
enriched by our gifts that they assumed the importance and standing of
arctic millionaires. I knew, of course, that in all probability I should
never see them again. This feeling was tempered with the knowledge of
success; but it was not without keen regret that I looked my last upon
these strange and faithful people who had meant so much to me.

We cleared from Cape York on August 26, and on September 5 we steamed
into Indian Harbor. Here the first despatch that went over the wires was
to Mrs. Peary: "_Have made good at last. I have the Pole. Am well.
Love_," followed in rapid succession by one from Bartlett to his mother;
and, among others, one to H. L. Bridgman, secretary of the Peary Arctic
Club: "_Sun_," a cipher meaning, "Pole reached. _Roosevelt_ safe."

Three days later the _Roosevelt_ reached Battle Harbor. On September 13
the ocean-going tug _Douglas H. Thomas_ arrived from Sydney, C. B., a
distance of four hundred and seventy-five miles, bringing Regan and
Jefferds, representatives of the Associated Press, whom I greeted by
saying, "This is a new record in newspaper enterprise, and I appreciate
the compliment." Three days later the Canadian Government cable steamer,
_Tyrian_, in command of Captain Dickson, arrived, bringing twenty-three
special correspondents who had been hurried north as soon as our first
despatches had reached New York, and on the 21st of September, as the
_Roosevelt_ was approaching the little town of Sydney, Cape Breton, we
saw a beautiful sea-going yacht approaching us. It was the _Sheelah_,
whose owner, Mr. James Ross, was bringing Mrs. Peary and our children up
to meet me. Further down the bay we met a whole flotilla of boats, gay
with bunting and musical with greetings. As we neared the city, the
entire water-front was alive with people. The little town to which I had
returned so many times unsuccessful gave us a royal welcome as the
_Roosevelt_ came back to her once more, flyi