a spur was in their flanks, a lash upon their backs. Their minds, their
wills, their efforts, their physical strength to the last ounce and
pennyweight belonged indissolubly to him. For the time being they were
his slaves, his serfs, his beasts of burden, his draught animals, no
better than the dogs straining in the traces beside them. Forward they
must and would go until they dropped in the harness or he gave the word
to pause.

At four o'clock in the afternoon Bennett halted. Two miles had been made
since the last camp, and now human endurance could go no farther.
Sometimes when the men fell they were unable to get up. It was evident
there was no more in them that day.

In his ice-journal for that date Bennett wrote:

"... Two miles covered by 4 p.m. Our course continues to be south,
20 degrees west (magnetic). The ice still hummocky. At this rate we
shall be on half rations long before we reach Wrangel Island. No
observation possible since day before yesterday on account of snow
and clouds. Stryelka, one of our best dogs, gave out to-day. Shot
him and fed him to the others. Our advance to the southwest is slow
but sure, and every day brings nearer our objective. Temperature at
6 p.m., 6.8 degrees Fahr. (minus 14 degrees C). Wind, east; force, 2."

The next morning was clear for two hours after breakfast, and when
Ferriss returned from his task of path-finding he reported to Bennett
that he had seen a great many water-blinks off to the southwest.

"The wind of yesterday has broken the ice up," observed Bennett; "we
shall have hard work to-day."