After much consideration and discussion we had come to the conclusion that we ought to lay down a depot —­ the last one —­ at this spot.  The advantages of lightening our sledges were so great that we should have to risk it.  Nor would there be any great risk attached to it, after all, since we should adopt a system of marks that would lead even a blind man back to the place.  We had determined to mark it not only at right angles to our course —­ that is, from east to west —­ but by snow beacons at every two geographical miles to the south.

We stayed here on the following day to arrange this depot.  Hanssen’s dogs were real marvels, all of them; nothing seemed to have any effect on them.  They had grown rather thinner, of course, but they were still as strong as ever.  It was therefore decided not to lighten Hanssen’s sledge, but only the two others; both Wisting’s and Bjaaland’s teams had suffered, especially the latter’s.  The reduction in weight that was effected was considerable —­ nearly 110 pounds on each of the two sledges; there was thus about 220 pounds in the depot.  The snow here was ill-adapted for building, but we put up quite a respectable monument all the same.  It was dogs’ pemmican and biscuits that were left behind; we carried with us on the sledges provisions for about a month.  If, therefore, contrary to expectation, we should be so unlucky as to miss this depot, we should nevertheless be fairly sure of reaching our depot in 86deg. 21’ before supplies ran short.  The cross-marking of the depot was done with sixty splinters of black packing-case on each side, with 100 paces between each.  Every other one had a shred of black cloth on the top.  The splinters on the east side were all marked, so that on seeing them we should know instantly that we were to the east of the depot.  Those on the west had no marks.

The warmth of the past few days seemed to have matured our frost-sores, and we presented an awful appearance.  It was Wisting, Hanssen, and I who had suffered the worst damage in the last south-east blizzard; the left side of our faces was one mass of sore, bathed in matter and serum.  We looked like the worst type of tramps and ruffians, and would probably not have been recognized by our nearest relations.  These sores were a great trouble to us during the latter part of the journey.  The slightest gust of wind produced a sensation as if one’s face were being cut backwards and forwards with a blunt knife.  They lasted a long time, too; I can remember Hanssen removing the last scab when we were coming into Hobart —­ three months later.  We were very lucky in the weather during this depot work; the sun came out all at once, and we had an excellent opportunity of taking some good azimuth observations, the last of any use that we got on the journey.