crack, up the bank to the very door of the hut
without a sound. No noise from the stable, nor the bark of a dog from the
snowdrifts above us. We halted and stood there trying to get ourselves
and one another out of our frozen harnesses--the usual long job. The door
opened--"Good God! here is the Crozier Party," said a voice, and
disappeared.

Thus ended the worst journey in the world.

And now the reader will ask what became of the three penguins' eggs for
which three human lives had been risked three hundred times a day, and
three human frames strained to the utmost extremity of human endurance.

Let us leave the Antarctic for a moment and conceive ourselves in the
year 1913 in the Natural History Museum in South Kensington. I had
written to say that I would bring the eggs at this time. Present, myself,
C.-G., the sole survivor of the three, with First or Doorstep Custodian
of the Sacred Eggs. I did not take a verbatim report of his welcome; but
the spirit of it may be dramatized as follows:

FIRST CUSTODIAN. Who are you? What do you want? This ain't an egg-shop.
What call have you to come meddling with our eggs? Do you want me to put
the police on to you? Is it the crocodile's egg you're after? I don't
know nothing about 'no eggs. You'd best speak to Mr. Brown: it's him that
varnishes the eggs.

I resort to Mr. Brown, who ushers me into the presence of the Chief
Custodian, a man of scientific aspect, with two manners: one, affably
courteous, for a Person of Importance (I guess a Naturalist Rothschild at
least) with whom he is conversing, and the other, extraordinarily
offensive even for an official man of science, for myself.

I announce myself with becoming modesty as the bearer of the penguins'
eggs, and proffer them. The Chief Custodian takes them into custody
without a word of thanks, and turns to the Person of Importance to
discuss them. I wait. The temperature of my blood rises. The conversation
proceeds for what seems to me a considerable period. Suddenly the Chief
Custodian notices my presence and seems to resent it.

CHIEF CUSTODIAN. You needn't wait.

HEROIC EXPLORER. I should like to have a receipt for the eggs, if you
please.

CHIEF CUSTODIAN. It is not necessary: it is all right. You needn't wait.

HEROIC EXPLORER. I should like to have a receipt.

But by this time the Chief Custodian's attention is again devoted wholly
to the Person of Importance. Feeling that to persist in overhearing their