Chilled through, Lockwood now continued along the coast to the west, following the ice-foot under a grand line of cliffs. After a while, they came to a narrow break or cleft in the cliffs, the gateway of a small mountain-torrent. It was like a winding and dark alley in a city, with vertical sides rising to the height of several hundred feet. Entering it, they presently came to an immense snow-drift, probably fifty or more feet high and filling up the gorge like a barricade, with another a little beyond. They returned to the sledge, thoroughly satisfied that Beaumont never went through that place. About seven they came to what seemed to be the “Gap Valley” of the English, a wide, broad valley, extending due south about three miles to a ravine. They therefore turned off from the coast and followed it, encountering a good deal of deep snow and bare, stony spots. At 11 A. M. they camped in the ravine near its head, thoroughly tired out. They now had only one day’s food left, and it behooved them to make Boat Camp in another march, even though fifty miles off. Advanced seventeen miles in eleven hours. The dogs for several days had been on short allowance, and during their sleep tore open the bag of specimen rocks and stones, but fortunately did not chew them up as they had done the cartridges. Getting off at 3.29 and crossing the table-land, they struck a narrow gorge running precipitately down to Newman’s Bay. At its head was a mountainous drift of snow, which they descended on the run; then came a number of smaller drifts, completely blocking up the gorge, over which they had to lower the sledge by hand. Near the bay, they discovered a singular snow-cave one hundred feet long, and occupying the entire bed of the stream, arched through its whole length by beautiful ribs of snow, from which depended delicate snow-crystals. The entrance was quite small, but inside, the roof was far above their heads. They lost sight of its picturesqueness in the thought of its fitness for the burrow of a sledge-party. This brought them on the smooth surface of the bay, with familiar landmarks before and around them—Cape Sumner, Cape Beechy, and far in the distance, Distant Point and the land near Franklin Bay. Looking back at the ravine from the bay, Lockwood felt sure no one would ever take this little, insignificant, narrow gully for the route of a sledge-party, and that no one traveling this, or the one they took going out, would ever take either again in preference to going round Cape Brevoort. They delayed along the shore of the bay almost an hour, leisurely building a cairn and viewing the scenery, and then going on, reached the farther side at eight o’clock, making their last final retreat of ten miles in five hours and a half. There was the whale-boat, and pitched alongside it, anchored down by stones and held by ropes, the six-man tent of the supporting party. Inside were Sergeants Lynn and Ralston, and Corporal Ellison, fast asleep.