We then turned in for some sleep before starting, as we had already been up and awake over twelve hours. Waking at midnight, I found the fog had settled down densely but it was no longer snowing. We ate our breakfast, then I had the men build a cairn in which was put a brief record in a bottle, and we started. The going was fairly good, and, after wading a wide ice-foot river, we reached as we supposed the point and followed the shore of this for some time, then got mixed up among some of the glacial deposits (all the time floundering through deep slush and icy lakes), and finally made camp on a pile of moraine material abreast of our camp of the 23d. The land we followed is a low island, snow-covered when we went out and not noticed. The real land which we can just see dimly, is unattainable, by reason of a wide, unfordable lake. The sun shone enough at intervals at this camp to nearly complete drying the six deerskins begun at Twenty-mile Cape. Leaving this camp in overcast weather, we reached the twelve mile tumulus, after wading stream after stream all running to the land. From the summit of the tumulus I saw the ice ahead of us in the same condition; a gigantic potato field with a long blue lake or a rushing stream in every furrow. Wading these constantly, we at last reached the tidal joint and followed this in comfort to a position almost abreast of our camp of the 21st. Only the base of the land was visible at any time. Everything covered with a pall of inky clouds. While we slept at the last camp, the temperature fell below the freezing point, crusting the snow, and freezing the smaller pools of water, and the northeast wind which had been blowing ever since we left Southwest Camp, increased to a half gale, shaking our tent violently. The low canopy of inky clouds remained the same. With all our clothing wet, and our foot-gear saturated, this was almost serious for us, and made the first half of this march extremely uncomfortable. Added to this, I felt pronouncedly off-colour on waking. The last two days of constant wading and the heaviest of snowshoeing had taken it out of me quite a bit. [Illustration: EGINGWAH AND REINDEER AT CAPE HUBBARD ] [Illustration: CROSSING A STREAM ON THE GLACIAL FRINGE ] [Illustration: OUR CAMP ON LAND WEST OF ALDRICH’S FARTHEST ] Four hours after leaving camp, we were abreast of my cache, made where Koolootingwah turned back and I sent the two men with one empty sledge and all the dogs to get it. They were bothered a good deal in reaching it by the lakes and streams. We were following the only practicable road. Without it, we would not make more than half our progress. On each side of our trail was a nearly continuous deep blue lake, into the outer side of which flowed at short intervals, streams and from the inner edge of which at every available spot streams had bored a way through to the tide crack into which they poured with a rush.