During the following weeks our life at Conger was pronouncedly _a la_ Robinson Crusoe. Searching for things in the unbroken darkness of the “Great Night,” with a tiny flicker of flame in a saucer, was very like seeking a needle in a haystack. Gradually all the essentials were located, while my two faithful Eskimos brought in empty boxes and barrels and broke them up to feed the fire. The dogs left on Bellot Island were brought in, but several died before they got used to the frozen salt pork and beef, which was all I had to feed them. The natives made two attempts to reach and bring in the two men left at Cape Cracroft, but were driven back both times by the darkness and furious winds. Finally, some ten days after we left the dug-out, they reached it again, and found that the two men, after eating some of their dogs, had started for the ship on foot, the few remaining dogs following them. On the 18th of February, the moonlight and the remaining twilight afforded enough light for a fair day’s march in each twenty-four hours; and we started for the _Windward_. My toes were unhealed, and I could hardly stand for a moment. I had twelve dogs left, but their emaciated condition and the character of the road precluded riding by anyone but myself. Lashed firmly down, with feet and legs wrapped in musk-ox skin, I formed the only load of one sledge. The other carried the necessary provisions. On the 28th we reached the _Windward_, everyone but myself having walked the entire distance, of not less than 250 miles, in eleven days. Fortunately for us, and particularly for me, the weather during our return, though extremely cold, was calm, with the exception of one day from Cape Cracroft south, during which the furious wind kept us enveloped in driving snow. The mean minimum daily temperature while we were returning was –56.18° F., reaching the lowest, –65° F., the day we arrived at the _Windward_. March 3d I started one of my Eskimos for Whale Sound with a summons to the hunters there to come to me with their dogs and sledges. Between the 3d and the 14th, a party of Eskimos coming unexpectedly, the last of the musk-ox meat on Bache Peninsula was brought to the ship, and another bull musk-ox killed. March 13th, the final amputation of my toes was performed. Pending the arrival of more natives, I sent a dory to Cape Louis Napoleon to be cached, and had dog-food and current supplies advanced to Cape Fraser. March 31st, a contingent of five natives and twenty-seven dogs came in. My messenger had been delayed by heavy winds and rough ice, and the ravages of the dog disease had made it necessary to send to the more southerly settlements for dogs. April 3d, Henson left with these natives and thirty-five dogs, with instructions to move the supplies at Cape Lawrence to Carl Ritter Bay, then push on with such loads as he could carry without double-banking to Fort Conger, rest his dogs and dry his clothing, and if I did not join him by that time to start back.