“...  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.”

A little after midday, at a time when they had wrested some thousand yards to the southward from the grip of the ice, the expedition came to the first lane of open water, about three hundred feet in width.  Bennett halted the sledges and at once set about constructing a bridge of floating cakes of ice.  But the work of keeping these ice-blocks in place long enough for the transfer of even a single sledge seemed at times to be beyond their most strenuous endeavour.  The first sledge with the cutter crossed in safety.  Then came the turn of number two, loaded with the provisions and whaleboat.  It was two-thirds of the way across when the opposite side of the floe abruptly shifted its position, and thirty feet of open water suddenly widened out directly in front of the line of progress.

“Cut loose!” commanded Bennett upon the instant.  The ice-block upon which they were gathered was set free in the current.  The situation was one of the greatest peril.  The entire expedition, men and dogs together, with their most important sledge, was adrift.  But the oars and mast and the pole of the tent were had from the whaleboat, and little by little they ferried themselves across.  The gap was bridged again and the dog-sleds transferred.

But now occurred the first real disaster since the destruction of the ship.  Half-way across the crazy pontoon bridge of ice, the dogs, harnessed to one of the small sleds, became suddenly terrified.  Before any one could interfere they had bolted from Muck Tu’s control in a wild break for the farther side of the ice.  The sled was overturned; pell-mell the dogs threw themselves into the water; the sled sank, the load-lashing parted, and two medicine chests, the bag of sewing materials—­of priceless worth—­a coil of wire ropes, and three hundred and fifty pounds of pemmican were lost in the twinkling of an eye.

Without comment Bennett at once addressed himself to making the best of the business.  The dogs were hauled upon the ice; the few loads that yet remained upon the sled were transferred to another; that sled was abandoned, and once more the expedition began its never-ending battle to the southward.