at the other end shows up at once, so that my journey in the dark is not a long one this time.  I come out into another large room of about the same size as the last, and afterwards learn that it is known as the Crystal Palace.  The name is appropriate, as crystals sparkle on every side.  Against one wall a number of pairs of ski are resting; elsewhere there are cases, some yellow and some black.  I guess the meaning of this at once, after my visit to Stubberud.  The yellow cases are the original ones, and the black the improved ones.  They think of everything here.  Of course, in snow black is a far better colour than light yellow; the cases will be pleasanter to look at, and very much easier to see at a distance.  And if they happen to run short of marks, all they need do will be to break up a case and make as many black marks as they want; they will be easily seen in the snow.  The lids of these cases surprise me.  They are no bigger than ordinary large milk-can lids, and of the same form; they are loose, as with a milk-can, and are put on in the same way.  Then it suddenly occurs to me.  When I was sitting on the sledges in Hanssen’s workshop, I noticed little pieces of wire rope fixed to both ribs of the sledge.  There were eight of them on each side —­ just the right number.  They are lashings for four cases, and they will hardly take more than that on a sledge.  On one rib all the wire ropes ended in eyes; on the other they ended in thin lashings.  Obviously there were four of them to each case —­ two forward and two aft of the lid.  If these were reeved and drawn taut, the cases would be held as in a vice, and the lids could be taken off freely at any time.  It was an ingenious idea, which would save a lot of work.

But there sits Johansen in the middle of the Palace, packing.  He seems to have a difficult problem to solve; he looks so profoundly thoughtful.  Before him is a case half packed, marked “Sledge No.  V., Case No. 4.”  More singular contents I have never seen —­ a mixture of pemmican and sausage.  I have never heard of sausages on a sledge journey; it must be something quite new.  The pieces of pemmican are cylindrical in shape, about 2 inches high and 4 and 3/4 inches in diameter; when they are packed, there will be large star-shaped openings between every four of them.  Each of these openings is filled up with a sausage, which stands straight up and down, and is of exactly the height of the case.  But sausage —­ let me see.  Ah! there’s a sausage with a tear in its skin; I run across and look at it.  Oh, the cunning rascals! if it isn’t milk-powder they are smuggling in like this!  So every bit of space is utilized.  The gaps left by these round pieces of pemmican at the sides of the cases are, of course, only half as large as the rest, and so cannot take a milk-sausage; but don’t imagine that the space is wasted.  No; chocolate is broken up into small pieces and stowed in there.  When all these cases are packed, they will be as full as if they were of solid wood.  There is one ready packed; I must see what it contains.  Biscuits —­ 5,400 biscuits is marked on the lid.  They say that angels are specially gifted with patience, but theirs must be a trifle compared with Johansen’s.  There was absolutely not a fraction of an inch left in that case.