The venture was rash almost to the verge of madness, but Nansen and Johansen entered upon it with such spirit and pluck that they succeeded in carrying it through successfully, though not without suffering fearful hardships. High-piled ridges of ice, on the slopes and summits of which the snow never had time to collect, were constantly forming in their path, and over these the men had to drag the sledges while the dogs, who did not care for that kind of amusement, sat down and looked on. To their great disappointment, too, the ice grew worse and worse as they journeyed north, till at last, on April 7, Nansen climbed to the top of the highest point that he could find, and saw nothing but packed, piled-up ice right on to the horizon, looking, as he says, “like a rough sea that had been petrified.” Such being the case, he came to the conclusion that it would be folly to continue the struggle, so, having reached lat. 86° 14´ N., the farthest point attained up till then, he and Johansen determined to turn south and make for Franz Joseph Land. Soon after they had started on the return journey they came upon better ice and progressed rather more rapidly. Unfortunately, however, in their anxiety to push on, they occasionally made inordinately long marches, with the result that, when they halted for the night on April 12, more than thirty-six hours had elapsed since they last pitched their tents, and their watches had run down. They were able to make a reasonably good guess at the time, but from that day onward they were never able to obtain their longitude with any certainty. The inaccuracy of Payer’s map, too, gave them a great deal of worry. Naturally believing in the existence of Petermann’s Land, they expected to sight it towards the end of April. May passed, however, and then the beginning of June, and still no land came in sight. By the 22nd of the month travelling had become so arduous that, having shot three bears and a seal, thus relieving themselves of all fear of starvation, they determined to wait till the warmer weather had melted the snow. It was not until July 22 that they started once more on their way, and two days later their eyes were gladdened with the sight of land. To reach it, however, was no easy matter, for the ice was broken up by numberless channels which were covered so thickly with crushed floe that it was impossible for them to use their kayacks. Accordingly they were obliged to jump from one piece of ice to another, dragging the sledges after them—a most hazardous proceeding which often nearly resulted in disaster. It was while they were preparing to negotiate an open lead that an incident happened which almost cost Johansen his life. Nansen was busy with his kayack, which he was holding with one hand to prevent it from slipping into the water, when he heard a scuffle behind him, and Johansen’s voice cried out, “Take the gun!”