ck the
party huddled wretchedly about it, dozing and waking, shivering
continually.

Breakfast at half past six o'clock; under way again an hour later. There
was no change in the nature of the ice. Ridge succeeded ridge, hummock
followed upon hummock. The wind was going down, but the snow still fell
as fine and bewildering as ever. The cold was intense. Dennison, the
doctor and naturalist of the expedition, having slipped his mitten, had
his hand frostbitten before he could recover it. Two of the dogs, Big
Joe and Stryelka, were noticeably giving out.

But Bennett, his huge jaws clenched, his small, distorted eyes twinkling
viciously through the apertures of the wind-mask, his harsh, black
eyebrows lowering under the narrow, contracted forehead, drove the
expedition to its work relentlessly. Not Muck Tu, the dog-master, had
his Ostiaks more completely under his control than he his men. He
himself did the work of three. On that vast frame of bone and muscle,
fatigue seemed to leave no trace. Upon that inexorable bestial
determination difficulties beyond belief left no mark. Not one of the
twelve men under his command fighting the stubborn ice with tooth and
nail who was not galvanised with his tremendous energy. It was as though
a spur was in their flanks, a lash upon their backs. Their minds, their
wills, their efforts, their physical strength to the last ounce and
pennyweight belonged indissolubly to him. For the time being they were
his slaves, his serfs, his beasts of burden, his draught animals, no
better than the dogs straining in the traces beside them. Forward they
must and would go until they dropped in the harness or he gave the word
to pause.

At four o'clock in the afternoon Bennett halted. Two miles had been made
since the last camp, and now human endurance could go no farther.
Sometimes when the men fell they were unable to get up. It was evident
there was no more in them that day.

In his ice-journal for that date Bennett wrote:

"... Two miles covered by 4 p.m. Our course continues to be south,
20 degrees west (magnetic). The ice still hummocky. At this rate we
shall be on half rations long before we reach Wrangel Island. No
observation possible since day before yesterday on account of snow
and clouds. Stryelka, one of our best dogs, gave out to-day. Shot
him and fed him to the others. Our advance to the southwest is slow
but sure, and every day brings nearer our objective. Temperature at
6 p.m., 6