A perfectly killing day, and I have little progress to record. Our affairs look rather blue. Jensen complains again of his leg, and was unable to proceed further when we camped. He is groaning with the pain. Knorr sticks at the work with a tenacity and spirit most admirable. He has never once confessed fatigue; and yet, to-night, after the severe labors of the day in lifting the sledge, and the endless trouble and confusion with the dogs, when I asked him if he was tired and wanted to camp, his answer was a prompt, "No, sir." And yet, when we did camp and the work was done, I found him keeled over behind a hummock, where he had gone to conceal his prostration and faintness,--but there was no faintness of the spirit. McDonald never shows eagerness for the halt, but the labor is beginning to tell upon him. He has the true grit of the thorough-bred bull-dog, and holds to his work like a sleuth-hound to the scent. [Sidenote: A RAVENOUS PACK.] Let me finish my grievances. The dogs again show symptoms of exhaustion,--my own fault, however, in some measure, for I have watched with miserly care every ounce of food; and, last night, I gave to each animal only one and a half pounds. Result--as I have stated; and, besides, to revenge themselves, they broke into Jensen's sledge, which, owing to the fatigue of everybody, was not unlashed, but covered instead with three feet of snow. The brutes scattered every thing around, tried to tear open our tin meat-cans with their wolfish fangs, and ate up our extra boots, the last scrap of skin-line that was left, some fur stockings, and made an end of Knorr's seal-skin covered meerschaum pipe, which he had imprudently hung upon the upstander. Hemp lines now make the sledge lashings and traces, and, as a consequence, the sledges are continually tumbling to pieces and the traces are constantly breaking. Another dog tore open a seal-skin tobacco-pouch, shook out its contents, and ate it; and another bolted our only piece of soap. This looks bad for our future cleanliness, but thirty-two days, at these low temperatures, have worn off the sharp edge of fastidiousness. At first we had always a morning wash with a handful of snow; but latterly we are not so particular, and we shall not grieve over the soap as much as we might have done some weeks ago. Our provisions are disappearing with alarming rapidity; and yet, whenever I stint the dogs in the least, down they go. If the dogs fail me, then nothing can be done, and I am completely at fault. Two days more must surely bring us to land. We are making in for Cape Hawks, but we are compelled to own that the Cape grows from day to day very little bolder. The numerous baitings to rest the dogs, and the forced halts caused by the breaking of the sledges and traces, when I can do nothing to speed the start, give me fine opportunities for plotting the coast; and my "field-book" and "sketch-book" are both well used.