We had ascertained that the way was practicable, as far as we were able to see; we had gone about five and a half miles from the tent, and ascended 2,000 feet.  On the way back we went gloriously; the last two slopes down to the Barrier gave us all the speed we wanted.  Bjaaland and I had decided to take a turn round by Mount Betty for the sake of having real bare ground under our feet; we had not felt it since Madeira in September, 1910, and now we were in November, 1911.  No sooner said than done.  Bjaaland prepared for an elegant “Telemark swing,” and executed it in fine style.  What I prepared to do, I am still not quite sure.  What I did was to roll over, and I did it with great effect.  I was very soon on my feet again, and glanced at Bjaaland; whether he had seen my tumble, I am not certain.  However, I pulled myself together after this unfortunate performance, and remarked casually that it is not so easy to forget what one has once learnt.  No doubt he thought that I had managed the “Telemark swing”; at any rate, he was polite enough to let me think so.

Mount Betty offered no perpendicular crags or deep precipices to stimulate our desire for climbing; we only had to take off our ski, and then we arrived at the top.  It consisted of loose screes, and was not an ideal promenade for people who had to be careful of their boots.  It was a pleasure to set one’s foot on bare ground again, and we sat down on the rocks to enjoy the scene.  The rocks very soon made themselves felt, however, and brought us to our feet again.  We photographed each other in “picturesque attitudes,” took a few stones for those who had not yet set foot on bare earth, and strapped on our ski.  The dogs, after having been so eager to make for bare land when they first saw it, were now not the least interested in it; they lay on the snow, and did not go near the top.  Between the bare ground and the snow surface there was bright, blue-green ice, showing that at times there was running water here.  The dogs did what they could to keep up with us on the way down, but they were soon left behind.  On our return, we surprised our comrades with presents from the country, but I fear they were not greatly appreciated.  I could hear such words as, “Norway-stones —­ heaps of them,” and I was able to put them together and understand what was meant.  The “presents” were put in depot, as not absolutely indispensable on the southern journey.

By this time the dogs had already begun to be very voracious.  Everything that came in their way disappeared; whips, ski-bindings, lashings, etc., were regarded as delicacies.  If one put down anything for a moment, it vanished.  With some of them this voracity went so far that we had to chain them.

CHAPTER XI

Through the Mountains