On the following day —­ November 17 —­ we began the ascent.  To provide for any contingency, I left in the depot a paper with information of the way we intended to take through the mountains, together with our plan for the future, our outfit, provisions, etc.  The weather was fine, as usual, and the going good.  The dogs exceeded our expectations; they negotiated the two fairly steep slopes at a jog-trot.  We began to think there was no difficulty they could not surmount; the five miles or so that we had gone the day before, and imagined would be more than enough for this day’s journey, were now covered with full loads in shorter time.  The small glaciers higher up turned out fairly steep, and in some places we had to take two sledges at a time with double teams.  These glaciers had an appearance of being very old, and of having entirely ceased to move.  There were no new crevasses to be seen; those that there were, were large and wide, but their edges were rounded off everywhere, and the crevasses themselves were almost entirely filled with snow.  So as not to fall into these on the return, we erected our beacons in such a way that the line between any two of them would take us clear of any danger.  It was no use working in Polar clothing among these hills; the sun, which stood high and clear, was uncomfortably warm, and we were obliged to take off most of our things.  We passed several summits from 3,000 to 7,000 feet high; the snow on one of them had quite a reddish-brown tint.

Our distance this first day was eleven and a half miles, with a rise of 2,000 feet.  Our camp that evening lay on a little glacier among huge crevasses; on three sides of us were towering summits.  When we had set our tent, two parties went out to explore the way in advance.  One party —­ Wisting and Hanssen —­ took the way that looked easiest from the tent —­ namely, the course of the glacier; it here rose rapidly to 4,000 feet, and disappeared in a south-westerly direction between two peaks.  Bjaaland formed the other party.  He evidently looked upon this ascent as too tame, and started up the steepest part of the mountain —­ side.  I saw him disappear up aloft like a fly.  Hassel and I attended to the necessary work round about and in the tent.

We were sitting inside chatting, when we suddenly heard someone come swishing down towards the tent.  We looked at each other; that fellow had some pace on.  We had no doubt as to who it was —­ Bjaaland, of course.  He must have gone off to refresh old memories.  He had a lot to tell us; amongst other things, he had found “the finest descent” on the other side.  What he meant by “fine” I was not certain.  If it was as fine as the ascent he had made, then I asked to be excused.  We now heard the others coming, and these we could hear a long way off.  They had also seen a great deal, not to mention “the finest descent.”  But both parties agreed in the mournful intelligence that we should have to