eal of roughness. He will have to become like the Esquimos and
they will be practically his only companions. However, Mr. Whitney has
had a talk with the Commander in the cabin of the _Roosevelt_, and the
Commander has given his consent and best wishes. Mr. Whitney's supplies
have been unloaded and some additions from the _Erik_ made, and there is
no reason to fear for his safety.

August 8, 1908: My forty-second birthday. I have not mentioned it to any
one, and there's only one other besides myself who knows that to-day I
am twice three times seven years of age. Seventeen years ago to-day,
Commander Peary, hobbling about on his crutches with his right leg in a
sling, insisted on giving me a birthday party. I was twenty-five years
old then, and on the threshold of my Arctic experience. Never before in
my life had the anniversary of my birth been celebrated, and to have a
party given in my honor touched me deeply. Mrs. Peary was a member of
the expedition then, and I suppose that it was due to her that the
occasion was made a memorable one for me. Last year, I was aboard the
_Roosevelt_ in the shadow of the "Statue of Liberty" in New York Bay,
and was treated to a pleasant surprise by my wife.

Commander Peary gave me explicit instructions to get Nipsangwah and Myah
ashore as quick as the Creator would let them, but to be sure that their
seven curs were kept aboard; these two huskies having exalted ideas as
to their rights and privileges. Egingwah, or Karko as we knew him, and
Koodlootinah and his family were to come aboard.

Acting under orders, I obeyed, but it was not a pleasant task. I have
known men who needed dogs less to pay a great deal more for one pup
than was paid to Nipsangwah for his pack of seven. The dogs are a
valuable asset to this people and these two men were dependent on their
little teams to a greater extent than on the plates and cups of tin
which they received in exchange for them.

August 8-9, 1908: Have been trading with the natives without any
trouble; they will give anything I want for anything that I have that
they want. "It's a shame to take the money," or, as money is unknown up
here and has no value, I should say that I should be ashamed to take
such an advantage of them, but if I should stop to consider the
freight-rates to this part of the world, no doubt a hatchet or a knife
is worth just what it can be traded in for.

The ship has been rapidly littering up until it is now in a most