Makuik was surprised, but, I think, not displeased to see us depart. Though imperturbable, he had felt the responsibility of so large a tribe. His own way lay toward Iceland, via Ginnunagap and Nivlheim. Perhaps he felt that as the spring hunting-season opened his movements would be hampered. He must soon be on the march in order to reach his destination over the solid ice before he was cut off in the land of enemy tribes from whom he had ravished their loveliest possessions. At any rate he worked with a will to speed our departure. Though he must surely have counted on the probability of none of us ever reaching safety he remained generous, bright and smiling to the last, insisting on dividing what remained of his food supply and heaping a monumental pile of oomiaks, spears and other equipment on the Kawa's deck. When we had turned our little craft about and cast off our moorings I stepped into the space between the two parties. It was a trying moment. I had prepared a short speech for the occasion but found I could not trust myself to deliver it. Advancing toward Makuik I silently gave the Kryptok brotherhood sign, which he returned. I had not seen Ikik since the previous evening but I now perceived her in the background and noticed that wise old Makuik had made fast one of her ankles to a large block of ice. Approaching her quietly I hung an oil skin tobacco pouch about her neck. It contained a book-plate bearing the Traprock arms[26] and the device "Traprock must be true." On the back of this I had written, in Klinka script, "I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more." Blinded with tears, I turned and for the first time in many blissful weeks, gave the old, old, command, "Mush!" * * * * * On February twelfth, we had reached eighty-five. Progress in the cold and dark was infinitely slower than it had been during the warm northward journey. The absence of mosquitoes was a compensation but on the whole travel was much more arduous. The mean temperature from Jan. 1st to Feb. 10th was 68° below, the meanest I have ever encountered. But I was in no hurry. We were very comfortable on our admirable craft and a careful reckoning of supplies gave me no cause for alarm. According to my list, we should be able to hold out for another year if worst came to worst. It came to worse than that. My rude awakening came on February 17th. It had been a wretched day with alternating snow and blizzard gales. The thermometers had gone their limit (100 below) and would have gone further if they had been longer. Cooped up in the cabin, worn with toil, frazzled with the bickering of the card players to whom I had given one week of grace for final rounds of roodles, my nerves were taut and jumpy. I ordered Swank to step aft and fetch me a plug of A-P. He was gone an unconscionable time and when he returned his face was blanched with terror. "The bin's empty, Sir," he reported. Empty!