Another and most touching reference made by Brainard to the burial-place of his friend Lockwood occurs in his journal under date of May 31, 1884, and is as follows: “In my daily journeys across Cemetery Ridge, it was but natural at first that my reflections should be sad and gloomy. Here lie my departed comrades, and to their left is the vacant space where, in a few days, my own remains will be deposited if sufficient strength remain to those who may survive me. The brass buttons on Lieutenant Lockwood’s blouse, worn bright by the flying gravel, protruded through the scanty covering of earth which our depleted strength barely enabled us to place over him. At first these dazzling buttons would awaken thoughts of those bright days spent at Fort Conger, of the half-forgotten scene of his death, and of the universal sorrow that was felt at his departure. But later my own wretched circumstances served to counteract these feelings, and I would pass and repass this place without emotion, and almost with indifference.” The supply of food had been almost entirely exhausted during the first few days of April, and it was impossible to obtain any game or rations from distant caches. An effort made by Rice to secure certain provisions that had been abandoned on a former expedition in order to save the life of Ellison when frozen, resulted in his own death, breathing his last in the arms of Fredericks, his only companion, who buried him in a lonely, ice-made grave. Nor were the horrors of the situation lessened by the discovery that the man Henry had been guilty of stealing their food, for which, after ample warning, under orders from Lieutenant Greely, he was summarily shot, according to the law of self-preservation. His remains were not deposited in the cemetery, but by themselves in a place near by. The total number of deaths out of the twenty-five composing the complete party of explorers was nineteen, and, while twelve of them were buried at Camp Clay, the remainder, like the lamented Rice, were buried elsewhere or where they died. Jans was lost in his kyack. During a discussion that occurred, about the final disposition of the dead, Lieutenant Greely expressed the wish that the remains of his men might be left undisturbed. They had died, he said, beneath Arctic skies. Arctic desolation witnessed their sufferings, heard their cries of anguish. They are buried in Arctic soil. Let them lie where they fell. Lockwood told me that he wanted to rest forever on the field of his work. Why disturb them? Why not respect their wishes?