book and
the geographical mind is at rest.

We found the abandoned igloos of Crane City and realized that Captain
Bartlett had reached the land safely. The damage due to the action of
the storms was not material. We made the necessary repairs, and in a few
minutes tea was boiled and rations eaten, and we turned in for sleep.
For practically all of the two days following, that was what we did:
sleep and eat; men and dogs thoroughly exhausted; and we slept the sleep
of the just, without apprehensions or misgivings. Our toboggan from the
Pole was ended.

* * * * *

Different from all other trips, we had not on this one been maddened by
the pangs of hunger, but instead we felt the effects of lack of sleep,
and brain- and body-fatigue. After reaching the land again, I gave a
keen searching look at each member of the party, and I realized the
strain they had been under. Instead of the plump, round countenances I
knew so well, I saw lean, gaunt faces, seamed and wrinkled, the faces of
old men, not those of boys, but in their eyes still shone the spark of
resolute determination.

Commander Peary's face was lined and seamed, his beard was fully an
inch in length, and his mustaches, which had been closely cropped before
he left the ship, had again attained their full flowing length. His
features expressed fatigue, but the heart-breaking look of sadness, that
had clung to him since the failure of the 1906 expedition, had vanished.
From his steel-gray eyes flashed forth the light of glorious victory,
and though he always carried himself proudly, there had come about him
an air of erect assurance that was exhilarating.

When I reached the ship again and gazed into my little mirror, it was
the pinched and wrinkled visage of an old man that peered out at me, but
the eyes still twinkled and life was still entrancing. This wizening of
our features was due to the strain of travel and lack of sleep; we had
enough to eat, and I have only mentioned it to help impress the fact
that the journey to the Pole and back is not to be regarded as a
pleasure outing, and our so-called jaunt was by no means a cake-walk.

CHAPTER XVII

SAFE ON THE ROOSEVELT--POOR MARVIN

If you will remember, the journey from Cape Sheridan to Cape Columbia
was with overloaded sledges in the darkness preceding the dawn of the
Arctic day, mostly over rough going and up-hill, and now the tables were
turned. It was broad day