We are now slowly picking our way across Lady Franklin Strait towards Cape Bellot, in the hope of being able to reach some place of security where we can remain patiently until a northerly wind shall have cleared a passage for us. Whilst crossing Kennedy Channel we obtained a magnificent view up Petermann Fiord. It is an extensive opening, with no land visible at its head. This is a geographical problem which we hope we shall soon be able to solve. It is difficult to determine at present whether Lady Franklin Strait is really a strait or a deep inlet. We are inclined to the latter belief. This is another question we hope will soon be satisfactorily settled. _Wednesday, August 25th._--At one o'clock this morning, whilst threading our way amongst the ice-floes that bordered the coast, a herd of musk oxen was observed browsing quietly on an adjacent hill. Such an opportunity for obtaining fresh meat was not to be disregarded. A shooting party was quickly organized, and, whilst the boats were being prepared and the hunters getting ready their rifles, the ships were taken into a beautifully snug and land-locked harbour, protected at its mouth by a large island, situated on the northern coast of Lady Franklin Bay. Here the anchors were let go, and the sportsmen despatched in quest of the game. Separating into three distinct parties on landing, we advanced cautiously towards the spot where they were last seen grazing, hoping to be able to surround and capture the entire herd. Not only did we all enter keenly into the sport, but our mouths watered at the prospect of again indulging in fresh meat. We pictured to ourselves smoking-hot beefsteaks and savoury calf's liver, dainties that we had for some time been strangers to, being prepared for us after our return to the ship, never even dreaming of a chance of returning empty-handed. The disposition of our force was well calculated, for the musk oxen being alarmed, in all probability by the blowing off of steam from one of the ships, started in full flight in the direction of a deep ravine. Here they were met by a couple of the hunters, who discharging their rifles dropped two of the herd. The remainder turned and dashed up the side of a steep hill, but only to be met by two more sportsmen, who made such good use of their time and weapons, that they succeeded in shooting the remainder, seven in number. One of the first brought down was the bull of the herd, a noble fellow; but so tenacious of life that several shots had to be expended, at a very short range, before he bit the dust.