us -- Bjaaland and I -- were now able, by getting a good purchase,
to hold the sledge suspended. First the dogs were taken out; then
Hassel's sledge was drawn back and placed across the narrowest part
of the crevasse, where we could see that the edges were solid. Then
by our combined efforts the sledge, which was dangling far below, was
hoisted up as far as we could get it, and made fast to Hassel's sledge
by the dogs' traces. Now we could slack off and let go: one sledge hung
securely enough by the other. We could breathe a little more freely.

The next thing to be done was to get the sledge right, up, and before
we could manage that it had to be unloaded. A man would have to go
down on the rope, cast off the lashings of the cases, and attach them
again for drawing up. They all wanted this job, but Wisting had it;
he fastened the Alpine rope round his body and went down. Bjaaland
and I took up our former positions, and acted as anchors; meanwhile
Wisting reported what he saw down below. The case with the cooker was
hanging by its last thread; it was secured, and again saw the light
of day. Hassel and Hanssen attended to the hauling up of the cases,
as Wisting had them ready. These two fellows moved about on the brink
of the chasm with a coolness that I regarded at first with approving
eyes. I admire courage and contempt for danger. But the length to which
they carried it at last was too much of a good thing; they were simply
playing hide-and-seek with Fate. Wisting's information from below --
that the cornice they were standing on was only a few inches thick --
did not seem to have the slightest effect on them; on the contrary,
they seemed to stand all the more securely.

"We've been lucky," said Wisting; "this is the only place where the
crevasse is narrow enough to put a sledge across. If we had gone a
little more to the left" -- Hanssen looked eagerly in that direction