As the month of May gradually passed, the members of the expedition gathered at Cape Fligely so as to maintain a steady watch for the return of the main detachment. In addition to the watch party there was also a party at Teplitz Bay, and word was sent from one place to the other as the days went by, while short journeys were constantly being taken along the shores on the lookout for the return of Captain Cagni and his companions. The provisions they had with them were only calculated to last until May 26, but the leader had expressed his intention, if he had not succeeded in reaching far enough to the north, of proceeding on reduced rations so as to attain as high a latitude as possible before returning. On the reduced scale they would be able to subsist until June 10, but when that date arrived and still there was no sign of them, the remainder of the expedition became alarmed. The silent disappearance of Lieutenant Querini and his companions did not tend to alleviate their anxiety. A week passed without any sign; June 20th came and went, and the next two days saw the little community depressed and sad at what they regarded as the fatal silence. On the 23rd they barely exchanged words with one another, lest they should add to each other's sorrow by expressing the almost hopeless fear that every one felt. On the evening of that day the watch party at Cape Fligely had retired to their shelter when they heard the barking of dogs. Hastily going outside, they saw a man, with a sledge, advancing from the direction of Teplitz Bay. They waited in silence for him to come up, fearing he brought news of disaster. But their fears were turned to joy when he shouted the news that the third detachment had safely returned to camp, having penetrated as far as 86° 34' N., and so established the "farthest north" record of any expedition yet despatched to the Arctic. The story Captain Cagni had to tell was one of persistent courage and determination. The straits to which he and his companions were reduced were shown by the condition of their equipment. They had a single sledge in a very damaged state, a bottomless saucepan, a broken cooking lamp, and a ragged tent. Their dogs were reduced to seven, the others having been killed to feed the survivors as well as the men. On the return journey the drift of the ice had carried them to the west, so that when they reached the latitude of Teplitz Bay they were many miles to the west of it. The condition of the ice had compelled them to go still further away before they were able to turn and head direct for the camp.