Hassel and I went in front on a rope; but that, after all, was not much of a help to our drivers.  We naturally glided lightly on our ski over places where the dogs would easily fall through.  This lowest part of the glacier was not entirely free from danger, as the crevasses were often rendered quite invisible by a thin overlying layer of snow.  In clear weather it is not so bad to have to cross such a surface, as the effect of light and shade is usually to show up the edges of these insidious pitfalls, but on a day like this, when everything looked alike, one’s advance is doubtful.  We kept it going, however, by using the utmost caution.  Wisting came near to sounding the depth of one of these dangerous crevasses with sledge, dogs and all, as the bridge he was about to cross gave way.  Thanks to his presence of mind and a lightning-like movement —­ some would call it luck —­ he managed to save himself.  In this way we worked up about 200 feet, but then we came upon such a labyrinth of yawning chasms and open abysses that we could not move.  There was nothing to be done but to find the least disturbed spot, and set the tent there.

As soon as this was done Hanssen and I set out to explore.  We were roped, and therefore safe enough.  It required some study to find a way out of the trap we had run ourselves into.  Towards the group of mountains last described —­ which now lay to the east of us —­ it had cleared sufficiently to give us a fairly good view of the appearance of the glacier in that direction.  What we had before seen at a distance, was now confirmed.  The part extending to the mountains was so ground up and broken that there was positively not a spot where one could set one’s foot.  It looked as if a battle had been fought here, and the ammunition had been great blocks of ice.  They lay pell-mell, one on the top of another, in all directions, and evoked a picture of violent confusion.  Thank God we were not here while this was going on, I thought to myself, as I stood looking out over this battlefield; it must have been a spectacle like doomsday, and not on a small scale either.  To advance in that direction, then, was hopeless, but that was no great matter, since our way was to the south.  On the south we could see nothing; the fog lay thick and heavy there.  All we could do was to try to make our way on, and we therefore crept southward.

On leaving our tent we had first to cross a comparatively narrow snow-bridge, and then go along a ridge or saddle, raised by pressure, with wide open crevasses on both sides.  This ridge led us on to an icewave about 25 feet high —­ a formation which was due to the pressure having ceased before the wave had been forced to break and form hummocks.  We saw well enough that this would be a difficult place to pass with sledges and dogs, but in default of anything better it would have to be done.  From the top of this wave-formation we could see down on the other side, which had hitherto been hidden from us.  The fog prevented our seeing far, but the immediate surroundings were enough to convince us that with caution we could beat up farther.  From the height on which we stood, every precaution would be required to avoid going down on the other side; for there the wave ended in an open crevasse, specially adapted to receive any drivers, sledges or dogs that might make a slip.