observation for latitude impossible on account of fog. Divine
services at 5:30 p.m."

A week passed, then another. There was no change, neither in the
character of the ice nor in the expedition's daily routine. Their toil
was incredible; at times an hour's unremitting struggle would gain but a
few yards. The dogs, instead of aiding them, were rapidly becoming mere
encumbrances. Four more had been killed, a fifth had been drowned, and
two, wandering from camp, had never returned. The second dog-sled had
been abandoned. The condition of McPherson's foot was such that no work
could be demanded from him. Hawes, the carpenter, was down with fever
and kept everybody awake all night by talking in his sleep. Worse than
all, however, Ferriss's right hand was again frostbitten, and this time
Dennison, the doctor, was obliged to amputate it above the wrist.

"... But I am no whit disheartened," wrote Bennett. "Succeed I must
and shall."

A few days after the operation on Ferriss's hand Bennett decided it
would be advisable to allow the party a full twenty-four hours' rest.
The march of the day before had been harder than any they had yet
experienced, and, in addition to McPherson and the carpenter, the doctor
himself was upon the sick list.

In the evening Bennett and Ferriss took a long walk or rather climb over
the ice to the southwest, picking out a course for the next day's march.

A great friendship, not to say affection, had sprung up between these
two men, a result of their long and close intimacy on board the Freja
and of the hardships and perils they had shared during the past few