four or five yards apart. The camp
was pitched, here, at 11 P.M. The latitude was 68 degrees 32' S., and we
saw the midnight sun for the first time that summer, about one-quarter
of its rim remaining above the horizon.

A full hurricane came up and kept between fifty and sixty miles per hour
all day on the 30th. Before moving off, Webb found that the magnetic
needle had "waltzed" back 60 degrees since the one-hundred-mile camp,
now pointing 80 degrees east of south. Still, to allow the needle to
makeup its mind, we steered into the wind at 2 P.M., losing the neve and
meeting very rough country. By 6 P.M., with four miles to our credit, we
were nearly played out. It was being discussed whether we should go
on when the discovery was made that the theodolite legs were missing;
probably having slipped out in one of the numerous capsizes of the
sledge.

The solemn rites of "shut-eye" determined that Webb was to stay and make
camp while Hurley and I retraced our steps. It was no easy matter to
follow the trail, for on hard snow the sledge runners leave no mark,
and we had to watch for the holes of the crampon-spikes. About two and
a half miles back, the legs were found, and there only remained a hard
"plug" against the wind to camp and hoosh.

While we were lying half-toggled into the sleeping-bags, writing our
diaries, Hurley spent some time alternately imprecating the wind and
invoking it for a calm next day. As he said, once behind a break-wind
one could safely defy it, but on the march one is much more humble.

Whether it was in honour of Queen Alexandra's birthday, or whether
Hurley's pious efforts of the evening before had taken effect, December
1 turned out a good day. By noon, the wind had dropped sufficiently for
us to hoist the Jack and Commonwealth Ensign for the occasion.

After four miles of battling, there came into sight a distinct ridge,
ten miles to the west and south--quite the most definitely rising ground
observed since leaving the coast. In one place was a patch of immense
crevasses, easily visible to the naked eye; in another, due south, were
black shadows, and towards these the course was pointed.

At a point more than one hundred and twenty-five miles from the sea, a
skua gull paid an afternoon call, alighting a few yards from the track.
I immediately commenced to stalk it with a fishing-line, this time all
ready and baited with pemmican. However, it was quite contemptuous,
flying off to the sout