must be good enough.  “Devil take it” —­ Lindstrom’s morning greeting —­ “this coffee-mill is not worth throwing to the pigs!  Might just as well chew the beans.  It wouldn’t take so long.”  And he is right; after a quarter of an hour’s hard work he has only ground just enough.  Now it is half-past six.  On with the coffee!  Ah, what a perfume!  I would give something to know where Amundsen got it from.  Meanwhile the cook has taken out his pipe, and is smoking away gaily on an empty stomach; it does not seem to do him any harm.  Hullo!  There’s the coffee boiling over.

While the coffee was boiling and Lindstrom smoked, I was still wondering why he was in such a hurry to get the coffee ready.  You ass!  I thought; can’t you see?  Of course, he is going to give himself a drink of fresh, hot coffee before the others are up; that’s clear enough.  When the coffee was ready, I sat down on a camp-stool that stood in a corner, and watched him.  But I must say he surprised me again.  He pushed the coffee-kettle away from the fire and took down a cup from the wall; then went to a jug that stood on the bench and poured out —­ would you believe it? —­ a cup of cold tea!  If he goes on in this way, we shall have surprises enough before evening, I thought to myself.  Then he began to be deeply interested in an enamelled iron bowl, which stood on a shelf above the range.  The heat, which was now intense (I looked at the thermograph which hung from the ceiling; it registered 84deg.F.), did not seem to be sufficient for its mysterious contents.  It was also wrapped up in towels and cloths, and gave me the impression of having caught a severe cold.  The glances he threw into it from time to time were anxious; he looked at the clock, and seemed to have something on his mind.  Then suddenly I saw his face brighten; he gave a long, not very melodious whistle, bent down, seized a dust-pan, and hurried out into the pent-house.  Now I was really excited.  What was coming next?  He came back at once with a happy smile all over his face, and the dust-pan full of —­ coal!  If I had been curious before, I was now anxious.  I withdrew as far as possible from the range, sat down on the floor itself, and fixed my eyes on the thermograph.  As I thought, the pen began to move upward with rapid steps.  This was too bad.  I made up my mind to pay a visit to the Meteorological Institute as soon as I got home, and tell them what I had seen with my own eyes.  But now the heat seemed intolerable down on the floor, where I was sitting; what must it be like —­ heavens above, the man was sitting on the stove!  He must have gone out of his mind.  I was just going to give a cry of terror, when the door opened, and in came Amundsen from the room.  I gave a deep sigh.  Now it would be all right the time was ten minutes past seven. “’Morning, Fatty!” —­ “’Morning.” —­ “What’s it like outside?” —­ “Easterly breeze and thick when I was out; but that’s a good while ago.”  This fairly took my breath away He stood there with