In the center of the upper terrace there is carved a huge dial, or calendar, somewhat resembling that used by the Aztecs. It is divided into four equal parts, and two of these into smaller divisions by rays from a central sun, each ray signifying a solar circuit—one hundred and eighty-two and one-half such divisions representing their entire summer day. The other half of the dial is left unilluminated, so to speak, thus to signify the long night. In this dial the point of beginning indicates the direction opposite to that from which we came. Here, also, ends the stairway by which the sun is supposed to climb, and from this direction, out of the unknown and uninhabited lands beyond, a fair river flows into the central lake. Between two hills in the far distance its waters touch the sky, thus forming a narrow gateway on the horizon. And through this come the earliest rays of morning after the period of darkness. The first returning gleams are caught and borne to the waiting people by the ripple of the inward flowing stream. And for this they have named it the “River of Living Dawn.” [Illustration: THE ANTARCTIC CALENDAR. RUDE SKETCH FROM MR. CHASE’S NOTE-BOOK. ] Directly across from this is the sun’s descending stairway, and there also, and flowing out of the lake, is the river by which we came. It, too, has a horizon gate, and through it, when its last half-circle is complete, linger the feeble rays of the parting sun. So they have named this the “River of Coming Dark,” and down its still current are sent those to whom night and cold no longer matter. XXXII. AN OFFERING TO THE SUN. “Which way is north?” asked Gale, as we looked down at the huge compass-like carving. “All ways,” I said. “We are at the end of South, here. The center of that diagram is the spot we set out to reach. It is the South Pole.” Gale reflected on this a moment, and then with something of the old spirit said: