14. On the 3rd of April (the thermometer standing at -9° F.) we should have reached Cape Tyrol, had not snow-storms from the south kept us in the afternoon in our tent: a delay with which Lukinovich was by no means displeased, for this being Good Friday he had counted on a day of complete rest,—for our friend Lukinovich was prone to turn his eyes to heaven, spoke constantly of the saints, could mention their festivals as they occurred in the calendar; but, alas! was a snow-eater, and could march not a whit better than Falstaff. On the 4th of April the temperature, with constant driving storms of snow from the south, rose from -4° to 23° F.; and the snow accumulated to such an extent even in the tent, that it had to be shovelled out. It was towards the afternoon before we could continue our march, the delay made being not so much on account of the cold, as from dread of the moisture. Our start proved, however, useless, for the snow began to drive so furiously, that, as we dragged, those behind could scarcely see the men in front. We again travelled by the compass and used our sledge-sail; but we constantly deviated from the right course, though we pressed on, passing Cape Tyrol without seeing it, and entered an unknown region in which we were guided by mere chance—expecting every moment to stumble on a fissure in the ice or open water. This day we sustained a painful loss—the loss of my dog Sumbu. For two long years he had been almost our only source of amusement by his cunning and his impudence. He had long been the rival of the frolicsome Torossy, in dragging the sledge; and it was often almost touching to see how at evening he would sink down exhausted in the snow, in the very spot where he was unharnessed. It cannot well detract from the merit of such services—and after all they were rendered in the interests of science!—that they were those of an animal and sprang from attachment.[43] To this vigorous lively animal, what more natural than that he should be almost beside himself if in one of these vast solitudes he should get sight of a living creature? So it happened to-day. A gull flew over his head, and Sumbu burst away from the sledge. In hot pursuit of the bird he disappeared from our sight and never returned again. All our shouts were thrown away. Our track was soon covered over by the drifting snow, and there cannot be a doubt that our faithful companion, after wandering about for days, either died of hunger or fell a victim to a bear. [Illustration: HOW SUMBU WAS LOST.]