The reader can imagine with what difficulty I restrained my companions from wholesale slaughter of the thousands of friendly creatures among whom we were making our slow but steady progress. We were individually armed and equipped for any event which might befall us, but many considerations urged me to be firm in this regard and my posted notices, "No hunting or fishing under penalty of the law," were sternly enforced. Primarily I wished to save time, knowing full well what delay would be caused by the pursuit and what inconvenience by the capture of any of the hulking carcasses which surrounded us. Secondly I was anxious to conserve ammunition for a time when it might be needed. Our own food supply was ample and it seemed wise to defer experiments with eskimo diet until absolutely necessary. How fortunate this caution proved will be related in its proper place. That we should ever be thrown entirely upon our own resources naked and stripped in this far land, seemed totally unlikely. But who knows the design of an inscrutable providence! Not I, for one. Two days from the Pole a tragic misfortune befell one of our little group, none other than my faithful friend, Reginald Whinney. He had come to me in the morning and asked for a two hours leave from the traces to take up work which he said was more scientific, namely, the study of the snow algæ which blossomed about us in rare profusion. As it was my custom to let my men out of harness, two at a time, to pursue their various specialties, I readily assented. "Whinney, botanist and Dane, Egyptologist, on leave" was the order of the day. They departed in opposite directions. Scientists in general avoid each other's company when making discoveries and these were no exception. It was the last Whinney saw of us for many weeks. At seven-and-a-half-bells Dane came aboard and went below to file his data. Eight-bells sounded and still no Whinney. With my glasses I scanned the expanse about us. Far away on our starboard bow I glimpsed for an instant a moving black speck, lost it in the quivering lens, found it again and held it. Was it a bear? No, it was too black. A seal?--too tall! In an instant I had given the order, "Cease mushing!" "Swank, Wigmore, come with me. Triplett, you are in command." We were off in a trice. As we drew near the distant figure I saw that it was indeed Whinney. But what was he doing? He was tottering about in vague circles like a man distraught. Just as I came up to him he fell forward on his knees with a despairing cry, covering his face with his hands. Gently holding him by the wrists, I lifted him up; his arms dropped to his side and I knew the awful truth. I mentioned, when Whinney left the ship, that he would see no more of us for many weeks. It was true, for though we could see him, the poor fellow could not see us. "Blind! Blind!" he shrieked, sinking down in despair and beating his head against the ice.