By about two o’clock the boys gave fresh signs of life.  I knew they were not going to work that afternoon —­ St. Hans’ Eve —­ but habit is a strange thing.  Bjaaland rose in a peremptory fashion, and asked who was going to have the first turn.  After a lot of questions and answers, it was decided that Hassel should be the first.  What it was I could not make out.  I heard them talk about one or two Primuses, and say that half an hour was the most one could stand, but that did not mean anything to me.  I should have to stick to Hassel; he was going first.  If there should be no second man, I should, at any rate, have seen what the first one did.  Everything became quiet again; it was only in the kitchen that one could tell that the Barrier was inhabited.

At half-past two Bjaaland, who had been out, came in and announced that now it was all a mass of steam.  I watched Hassel anxiously.  Yes; this announcement seemed to put life into him.  He got up and began to undress.  Very strange, I thought; what can this be?  I tried the Sherlock Holmes method —­ first Bjaaland goes out; that is fact number one.  Then he comes back; that I could also make sure of.  So far the method worked well.  But then comes the third item “It is all a mass of steam.”  What in the world does that mean?  The man has gone out —­ if not out on to the Barrier, then certainly into it —­ into snow-ice, and then he comes back and says that it is all a mass of steam.  It seems ridiculous —­ absurd.  I send Sherlock Holmes to the deuce, and watch Hassel with increasing excitement; if he takes any more off —­ I felt I was blushing, and half turned my head, but there he stopped.  Then he picked up a towel, and away we went:  out through the pent-house door —­ it was all I could do to follow him —­ along the snow tunnel in nothing but —­ Here steam really began to meet us, getting thicker and thicker as we came into the Barrier.  The tunnel became so full of steam that I could see nothing.  I thought with longing of the tail of Amundsen’s anorak that was so useful on such occasions, but here there was nothing to take hold of.  Far away in the fog I could see a light, and made my way to it with caution.  Before I knew where I was, I stood at the other end of the passage, which led into a large room, covered with rime, and closed overhead by a mighty dome of ice.  The steam was troublesome, and spoilt my view of the room.  But what had become of Hassel?  I could only see Bjaaland.  Then suddenly the fog seemed to clear for an instant, and I caught sight of a bare leg disappearing into a big black box, and a moment later I saw Hassel’s smiling face on the top of the box.  A shudder passed through my frame —­ he looked as if he had been decapitated.  On further consideration, his features were too smiling; the head could not be severed from the body yet.  Now the steam began to clear away little by little, and at last one could see clearly what was going on.  I had to laugh; it was all very easy to understand