“Because nobody has ever been prepared to surmount the almost perpendicular wall that surrounds it, or to cross the frozen zone beyond. The ice-wall is anywhere from one to two thousand feet high. I have a plan for scaling it and for drifting over the frozen belt in a balloon to which, instead of a car, there will be attached a sort of large light boat with runners on it, so that it may also be sailed or drawn on the surface, if necessary. The balloon idea is not, of course, altogether new, except——” But Gale had gone off into another roar of merriment. “Well, if this ain’t the coldest, windiest bluff I ever got up against,” he howled. “Think of going up in a balloon and falling off of an ice-wall two thousand feet high! Oh, Lord! What is home without a door-knob!” “There does appear to be an element of humor in some phases of my proposition,” I admitted, “but I have faith in it, nevertheless, and am quite sincere in my belief of a warm Antarctic world.” “Of course you are. If you hadn’t been I wouldn’t ‘a’ let you talk to me for a minute. Let’s hear some more about it. Do you think this ship would do? When do you want to start?” “As for the ship,” I hastened to say, “it would almost seem that she had been built for the purpose. With her splendid sailing rig, her coal could be economized, and used only when absolutely necessary. Her light draught makes it possible to take her into almost any waters. The shape of her hull and her strength are calculated to withstand an ice-squeeze, and her capacity is such that enough provisions in condensed forms could be stored away in her hold to last for an almost indefinite length of time. As for starting——” A cloud had passed over Gale’s face at the mention of an ice-squeeze, but now he was laughing again. “Condensed food! Oh, by the great Diamond Back, but that will hit Bill! That’s his hobby. He’s invented tablets condensed from every kind of food under the sun. You saw Bill awhile ago. Used to be my right-hand man in real estate, and is now my steward, from choice. Never had a profitable idea of his own, but honest and faithful as a town clock. What he calls dietetics is his long suit. He don’t try many of his experiments on us, but he does on himself; that’s why he looks like a funeral. Oh, but we must have Bill along—it’ll suit him to the ground!” He touched a button at his elbow. “Food tablets might prove a great advantage,” I admitted, “especially if we made an extended trip in the balloon.” “Bill can make ’em for us all right. Soup tablets, meat tablets, bread tablets—why, you can put a meat tablet between two bread tablets and have a sandwich, and carry a whole _table d’hôte_ dinner in a pill-box. Here, boy, tell Mr. Sturritt to step up here, if he’s not busy. Tell him I’ve got important news for him.” Clearly it was but a huge joke to Mr. Gale. I was willing to enter into the spirit of it, however. He turned to me as the boy disappeared.