ome. It was to be
a fight with Death and the great Providence would decide the issue.

On the outward journey we had left no depots of provisions en route,
for it was our bad fortune to meet such impossible country that we had
decided to make a circuit on our return to Winter Quarters sufficiently
far inland to avoid the coastal irregularities. As a matter of fact, on
the very day of the calamity, preparations had been made to cache most
of the food within twenty-four hours, as during the last few days of the
journey we were to make a dash to our "farthest east" point. Such were
the plans, and now we were ranged against unexpected odds.

With regard to the dogs, there were six very miserable animals left.
The best of them had been drafted into the rear team, as it was expected
that if an accident happened through the collapse of a snow-bridge the
first sledge would most probably suffer. For the same reason most of
the food and other indispensable articles had been carried on the rear
sledge.

All the dogs which had perished were big and powerful; Basilisk,
Ginger Bitch, Shackleton, Castor, Franklin and John Bull. We had fully
anticipated that those at least would come back alive, at the expense of
the six dogs in my sledge.

A silent farewell!--and we started back, aiming to reach our
camping-ground on December 12 before a snowstorm intervened, as several
things had been left there which would be of use to us in our straitened
stances. The weather still held good and there were no signs of
approaching snow or wind. So Mertz went ahead on skis, while we plodded
slowly up the hills and dashed recklessly down them. During the descents
I sat on the sledge and we slid over long crevassed slopes in a wild
fashion, almost with a languid feeling that the next one would probably
swallow us up. But we did not much care then, as it was too soon after
losing our friend.

At 2.30 A.M. on December 15 the discarded sledge and broken spade came
into sight. On reaching them, Mertz cut a runner of the broken sledge
into two pieces which were used in conjunction with his skis as a
framework on which to pitch the spare tent-cover; our only tent and
poles having been lost. Each time the makeshift shelter was erected,
these props had to be carefully lashed together at the apex, which stood
four feet from the ground. Inside, there was just room for two one-man
sleeping-bags on the floor. However, only one man at a time could move
about