one reindeer I was on my way farther inland in search of more, when
I made a surprising discovery, which attracted all my attention and
made me quite forget the errand I had come on. It was a large fjord
cutting its way in through the land to the north of me. I went as far
as possible to find out all I could about it, but did not manage to
see the end of it. So far as I could see, it was a fine broad sheet
of water, stretching eastward to some blue mountains far, far inland,
which, at the extreme limit of my vision, seemed to slope down to
the water. Beyond them I could distinguish nothing. My imagination
was fired, and for a moment it seemed to me as if this might almost
be a strait, stretching right across the land here, and making an
island of the Chelyuskin Peninsula. But probably it was only a river,
which widened out near its mouth into a broad lake, as several of the
Siberian rivers do. All about the clay plains I was tramping over,
enormous erratic blocks, of various formations, lay scattered. They
can only have been brought here by the great glaciers of the Ice
Age. There was not much life to be seen. Besides reindeer there were
just a few willow-grouse, snow-buntings, and snipe; and I saw tracks
of foxes and lemmings. This farthest north part of Siberia is quite
uninhabited, and has probably not been visited even by the wandering
nomads. However, I saw a circular moss-heap on a plain far inland,
which looked as if it might be the work of man's hand. Perhaps, after
all, some Samoyede had been here collecting moss for his reindeer;
but it must have been long ago; for the moss looked quite black and
rotten. The heap was quite possibly only one of Nature's freaks--she
is often capricious.

What a constant alternation of light and shadow there is in this Arctic
land. When I went up to the crow's-nest next morning (September 9th)
I saw that the ice to the north had loosened from the land, and I
could trace a channel which might lead us northward into open water. I
at once gave the order to get up steam. The barometer was certainly
low--lower than we had ever had it yet; it was down to 733 mm.--the
wind was blowing in heavy squalls off the land, and in on the plains
the gusts were whirling up clouds of sand and dust.

Sverdrup thought it would be safer to stay where we were; but it would
be too annoying to miss this splendid opportunity; and the sunshine
was so beautiful, and the sky so smiling and reassuring. I gav