On March 19 we had a breeze from the south-east and -45.4deg.  F.  “Rather fresh,” I find noted in my diary.  Not long after we had started that morning, Hanssen caught sight of our old tracks.  He had splendid eyesight —­ saw everything long before anyone else.  Bjaaland also had good sight, but he did not come up to Hanssen.  The way home was now straightforward, and we could see the end of our journey.  Meanwhile a gale sprang up from the south-east, which stopped us for a day; temperature, -29.2deg.  F. Next day the temperature had risen, as usual, with a south-east wind; we woke up to find it +15.8deg.  F. on the morning of the 21st.  That was a difference that could be felt, and not an unpleasant one; we had had more than enough of -40deg..  It was curious weather that night:  violent gusts of wind from the east and south-east, with intervals of dead calm —­ just as if they came off high land.  On our way northward that day we passed our flag No. 6, and then knew that we were fifty-three miles from Framheim.  Pitched our camp that evening at thirty-seven miles from the station.  We had intended to take this stretch of the way in two days, seeing how tired the dogs were; but it turned out otherwise, for we lost our old tracks during the forenoon, and in going on we came too far to the east, and high up on the ridge mentioned before.  Suddenly Hanssen sang out that he saw something funny in front —­ what it was he did not know.  When that was the case, we had to apply to the one who saw even better than Hanssen, and that was my glass.  Up with the glass, then —­ the good old glass that has served me for so many years.  Yes, there was certainly something curious.  It must be the Bay of Whales that we were looking down into, but what were those black things moving up and down?  They are our fellows hunting seals, someone suggested, and we all agreed.  Yes, of course, it was so clear that there was no mistaking it.  “I can see a sledge —­ and there’s another —­ and there’s a third.”  We nearly had tears in our eyes to see how industrious they were.  “Now they’re gone.  No; there they are again.  Strange how they bob up and down, those fellows!” It proved to be a mirage; what we saw was Framheim with all its tents.  Our lads, we were sure, were just taking a comfortable midday nap, and the tears we were nearly shedding were withdrawn.  Now we could survey the situation calmly.  There lay Framheim, there was Cape Man’s Head, and there West Cape, so that we had come too far to the east.  “Hurrah for Framheim! half-past seven this evening,” shouted one.  “Yes, that’s all we can do,” cried another; and away we went.  We set our course straight for the middle of the bay.  We must have got pretty high up, as we went down at a terrific pace.  This was more than the forerunner could manage; he flung himself on a sledge as it went by.  I had a glimpse of Hanssen, who was busy making a whip-handle, as I passed; the soles of his feet were then very prominent.  I myself was lying on Hanssen’s sledge, shaking with laughter; the situation was too comical.  Hanssen picked himself up again just as the last sledge was passing and jumped on.  We all collected in a mass below the ridge —­ sledges and dogs mixed up together.