As I was writing a rather elaborate note (having nothing better to do) requesting the pleasure of the distinguished presence of the medical officer, the man who had been to Bray for coal came and reported a fruitless errand. He seemed very depressed at his failure, but cheered up when we gave him a tot of rum to warm him up. (All rum, by the way, is kept in the company officer’s dug-out; it is the only way.) Meanwhile, the problem of fuel must be faced. A log was crackling away merrily enough, but it was the very last. Something must be done. “Davies,” I called out. “Sir?” came back in that higher key of his. He appeared at the door. “Are you going down for rations?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, look here. There’s a sack of coal _ordered_ from Sergeant Johnson, but I’m none too sure it’ll come up to-night. I only ordered it yesterday. But I want you to make sure you get it if it is there; in fact you _must_ bring it, whether it’s there or not. See? If you don’t, you’ll be for it.” This threat Davies took for what it was worth. But he answered: “I’ll get it, sir. I’ll bring something along somehow.” And Davies never failed of his word. “Good! Do what you can.” Half an hour later he staggered in with a sack of coal, and plumped it down, all covered with snow. The fire was burning very low, and we were looking at it anxiously. The sight of this new supply of fuel was wonderful good to the eyes. So busy were we in stoking up, that we forgot to ask Davies if he had had any trouble in getting it. After all, it did not matter much. There was the coal; that was the point. Behind the curtain there was a great business. Lewis and Brady had brought up the rations; Gray was busy with a big stew, and Richards was apparently engaged in getting out plates and knives and forks from a box; Davies was reading aloud, in the middle of the chaos, from the _Daily Mail_. Sometimes the Mess-president took it into his head to inspect the servants’ dug-out; but it was an unwise procedure, for it took away the relish of the meal, if you saw the details of its preparation. So long as it was served up tolerably clean, one should be satisfied.