on their skin clothing and made ready to go out.  By this time Bjaaland and Stubberud had returned from a walk, as I understood from such remarks as “Beastly cold,” “Sharp snow by the depot,” and the like.  Prestrud was the only one who did not get ready to go out; he went to an open space underneath the farthest bunk, where there was a box.  He raised the lid of this, and three chronometers appeared; at the same moment three of the men produced their watches, and a comparison was made and entered in a book.  After each watch had been compared, its owner went outside, taking his watch with him.  I took the opportunity of slipping out with the last man —­ Prestrud and his chronometers were too serious for me; I wanted to see what the others were about.

There was plenty of life outside; dogs’ howls in every key came from the tents.  Some of those who had left the house before us were out of sight, so they had probably gone to their respective tents, and presently one could see by the lights that they were in the act of letting their dogs loose.  How well the lighted-up tents looked against the dark, star-strewn sky!  Though it could no longer be called dark:  the little flush of dawn had spread and overpowered the glow of the aurora australis, which had greatly decreased since I last saw it; evidently it was near its end.  Now the four-footed band began to swarm out, darting like rockets from the tents.  Here were all colours-grey, black, red, brown, white, and a mixture of all of them.  What surprised me was that they were all so small; but otherwise they looked splendid.  Plump and round, well kept and groomed, bursting with life.  They instantly collected into little groups of from two to five, and it was easy to see that these groups consisted of intimate friends —­ they absolutely petted each other.  In each of these clusters there was one in particular who was made much of; all the others came round him, licked him, fawned upon him, and gave him every sign of deference.

They all run about without a sign of unfriendliness.  Their chief interest seems to be centred in two large black mounds that are visible in the foreground of the camp; what they are I am unable to make out —­ there is not light enough for that —­ but I am probably not far wrong in guessing that they are seals.  They are rather hard eating, anyhow, for I can hear them crunching under the dogs’ teeth.  Here there is an occasional disturbance of the peace; they do not seem to agree so well over their food, but there is never a regular battle.  A watchman is present, armed with a stick, and when he shows himself and makes his voice heard, they soon separate.  They appear to be well disciplined.

What appealed to me most was the youngsters and the youngest of all.  The young ones, to judge from their appearance, were about ten months old.  They were perfect in every way; one could see they had been well cared for from their birth.  Their coats were surprisingly thick —­ much more so than those of the older dogs.  They were remarkably plucky, and would not give in to anyone.