However, we managed to keep up our sixteen miles per day, and on January 24 we were cheered by sighting Mount Baxter. Towards evening we discussed whether we were following approximately our old out-going tracks. Mackay thought we were nearer to the mountain than before, I thought we were farther to the south-west, Mawson, who was leading, said that we were pretty well on our old course. Just then I discovered that we were actually on our old tracks which showed up plainly for a short distance, and which were striking evidence of Mawson's skill as a navigator. On the next day we encountered a mild blizzard, but we also managed to sight Mount Nansen just before we camped, and when we resumed our march we reached a surface of hard marble-like névé, which descended by short steep slopes. At first we did not realise that we were about to descend what we had called the Ice Falls on the outward journey, and as the sledge occasionally took charge and rushed down this marble staircase Mawson and I came some heavy croppers. On the 27th we were delighted at last to sight Mount Larsen, and to have reached a point only forty miles from our Larsen Depot. The wind was blowing at about 25 miles an hour, and occasionally, in an extra strong puff, the sledge took charge. On one of these occasions it suddenly charged into me from behind, knocked my legs from under me, and nearly juggernauted me. But I was quickly rescued from this undignified position by Mawson and Mackay. At lunch, with a faint hope of softening the heart of Mackay--who was messman for the week--I mildly informed him that it was my birthday. He took the hint and both at lunch and dinner we all fared, what we considered, sumptuously. We advanced twenty miles towards the coast on that day, but it had been a most fatiguing journey, and when we started again we decided that pulling the sledge was less exhausting than the sailing had proved to be. Hour by hour we steadily pulled on, Mounts Nansen and Larsen growing larger and clearer, and we began to hope that we might be able to reach our depot that night. But later on Mawson's sprained leg pained him so much that we had almost decided to camp, when Mackay's sharp eyes sighted our little blue flag tied to the ice-axe at our depot. It was, however, past midnight before we turned into our sleeping-bags. On the next morning--January 30--we were up at 9 A.M., and after breakfast we collected the material at our depot, such as ski boots, oil, and geological specimens and loaded these on to our sledge. During this day we discussed whether it would be wiser to descend by the old track up which we had come, or make down the main Larsen Glacier to the point where it joined the Drygalski Glacier. Mackay favoured the former route, while Mawson and I were in favour of the latter, and, as subsequent events proved, Mackay was right and we were wrong.