Next day the temperature was -62.5deg.  F., calm, and perfectly clear.  We did eighteen and a half miles, and kept our course as well as we could with the help of the sun.  It was -69.3deg.  F. when we camped.  This time I had done a thing that I have always been opposed to:  I had brought spirits with me in the form of a bottle of Norwegian aquavit and a bottle of gin.  I thought this a suitable occasion to bring in the gin.  It was as hard as flint right through.  While we were thawing it the bottle burst, and we threw it out into the snow, with the result that all the dogs started to sneeze.  The next bottle —­ “Aquavit, No. 1” —­ was like a bone, but we had learnt wisdom by experience, and we succeeded with care in thawing it out.  We waited till we were all in our bags, and then we had one.  I was greatly disappointed; it was not half so good as I had thought.  But I am glad I tried it, as I shall never do so again.  The effect was nil; I felt nothing, either in my head or my feet.

The 14th was cool —­ the temperature remained at -68.8deg.  F. Fortunately it was clear, so that we could see where we were going.  We had not gone far before a bright projection appeared on the level surface.  Out with the glasses —­ the depot!  There it lay, right in our course.  Hanssen, who had driven first the whole way, without a forerunner, and for the most part without a compass, had no need to be ashamed of his performance.  We agreed that it was well done, and that, no doubt, was all the thanks he got.  We reached it at 10.15 a.m., and unloaded our sledges at once.  Wisting undertook the far from pleasant task of getting us a cup of warm milk at -68.8deg.  F. He put the Primus behind one of the cases of provisions, and set it going; strangely enough, the paraffin was still liquid in the vessel, but this was no doubt because it had been well protected in the case.  A cup of Horlick’s Malted Milk tasted better that day than the last time I had tried it —­ in a restaurant in Chicago.

Having enjoyed that, we threw ourselves on the almost empty sledges, and set our course for home.  The going was difficult, but, with the light weight they now had to pull, the dogs went along well.  I sat with Wisting, as I considered his team the strongest.  The cold held on unchanged, and I was often surprised that it was possible to sit still on the sledges, as we did, without freezing; but we got on quite well.  One or two I saw off their sledges all day, and most of us jumped off from time to time and ran by the side to get warm.  I myself took to my ski and let myself be pulled along.  This so-called sport has never appealed to me, but under the circumstances it was permissible; it warmed my feet, and that was the object of it.  I again had recourse to this “sport” of ski-driving later on, but that was for another reason.