While the other sides of the "estate" were pretty nearly straight, the east side formed a concave arc or bay, which offered an excellent winter berth for the Fram. But there was no possibility of getting the ship into it so long as the channel between the "estate" and the floe to eastward remained closed. Late in the afternoon of September 2d the ice at last slackened so much that we could make an attempt. By the help of our tackle we managed to get her warped a ship's length eastward, but it was impossible for the moment to get her any farther, as the new ice was already pretty thick (the night temperature was -5° C.), and also a good deal packed. Nor was it any use to bring the ice-saw into play and cut a channel, for the slush was so deep that we could not shove the fragments aside or under each other. The next day began with half a gale from the southeast and rain; but at 6 o'clock the wind moderated and veered to the south, and at 8 o'clock the ice around the lane began to slacken a good deal. As there was now more room, we made good progress with cutting our way through the new ice, and before midday we had got the Fram hauled into the bay and moored in the winter harbor which we all hoped might prove her last. When Nansen and Johansen set out, they left seven dogs behind, the bitch "Sussi" and the six youngest puppies: "Kobben," "Snadden," "Bella," "Skvint," "Axel," and "Boris." On April 25th "Sussi" gave birth to twelve puppies. We had made a cozy little kennel for her on deck, lining it with reindeer-skin. Pettersen came down in the morning, and told us that "Sussi" was running round whining and howling. Mogstad and I went up and shut her into the kennel, where she at once gave birth to a puppy. When the afternoon came, and we saw that more and more citizens were being added to our community, we feared that the mother would not be able to warm all her litter, and consequently removed the whole family into the saloon. All the puppies were large and handsome, most of them quite white, and looking as though they would turn out regular little "bjelkier," as the Samoyedes call all white dogs. They grew and throve excellently as saloon passengers, and were petted and spoiled by every one. They made their home in the saloon for a month, and then we transferred them to the above-mentioned kennel on deck. After they had been up there for some weeks it appeared as though they had suddenly stopped growing, although they were constantly well fed with raw bear's-flesh, milk, and the broken meat from our table. About the second week of August two of the puppies died of convulsions. The doctor managed to save a third by means of warm baths and careful nursing. At the end of the month another of them was seized with convulsions and died, although it, too, was treated with warm baths and comfortably housed, first in the saloon, and afterwards in the work-room.