When we came out of the tent on the morning of January 21 we were greatly surprised.  We thought we must be mistaken, rubbed our eyes, opened them wider; but no, it was no good.  The Fram was no longer to be seen.  It had been blowing pretty strongly during the night, with snow-squalls.  Presumably the weather had forced them to put out.  We could also hear the roar of the sea dashing against the Barrier.  Meanwhile we lost no time.  The day before Captain Nilsen and Kristensen had shot forty seals, and of these we had brought in half the same day.  We now began to fetch in the rest.  During the forenoon, while we were flaying and shooting seals, we heard the old, well-known sound —­ put, put, put —­ of the Fram’s motor, and presently the crow’s-nest appeared above the Barrier.  But she did not get into her old berth before evening.  A heavy swell had forced her to go outside.

Meanwhile the carpenters were busily constructing the hut.  By January 21 the roof was on, and the rest of the work could thus be done under cover.  This was a great comfort to the men; at that time their job was undoubtedly the worst of any.  Bitterly cold it was for them, but I never heard them talk about it.  When I came up to the tent after the day’s work, one of them was busy cooking.  The meal always consisted of pancakes and pitch-black, strong coffee.  How good it tasted!  A rivalry soon arose between the two cook-carpenters as to which of them could make the best pancakes.  I think they were both clever at it.  In the morning we had pancakes again —­ crisp, hot, delicate pancakes, with the most glorious coffee —­ before I was even out of my sleeping-bag.  That is what the carpenters had to offer me at five o’clock in the morning.  No wonder I enjoyed their society.  Nor did the men in the lower camp suffer any privation.  Wisting showed himself to be possessed of eminent talents as cook for the day.  His special dish was penguins and skua gulls in cream sauce.  It was served under the name of ptarmigan, of which it really reminded one.

That Sunday we all went on board —­ with the exception of the necessary tent guards for both camps —­ and enjoyed life.  We had worked hard enough that week.

On Monday, January 23, we began to carry up the provisions.  In order to save time, we had decided not to bring the provisions right up to the hut, but to store them for the time being on an elevation that lay on the other side, to the south of Mount Nelson.  This spot was not more than 600 yards from the hut, but as the surface was rather rough here, we should save a good deal in the long-run.  Afterwards when the Fram had sailed, we could take them the rest of the way.  As it turned out, we never had time for this, so that our main store remained here.  Sledging up to this point offered some difficulties at first.  The dogs, who were accustomed to take the road to the lower camp —­ between Nelson and Ronniken —­ could not understand why they might not do the same now.  The journey with