When this festival dinner at the Pole was ended, we began our preparations for departure.  First we set up the little tent we had brought with us in case we should be compelled to divide into two parties.  It had been made by our able sailmaker, Rionne, and was of very thin windproof gabardine.  Its drab colour made it easily visible against the white surface.  Another pole was lashed to the tent-pole, making its total height about 13 feet.  On the top of this a little Norwegian flag was lashed fast, and underneath it a pennant, on which “Fram” was painted.  The tent was well secured with guy-ropes on all sides.  Inside the tent, in a little bag, I left a letter, addressed to H.M. the King, giving information of what we had accomplished.  The way home was a long one, and so many things might happen to make it impossible for us to give an account of our expedition.  Besides this letter, I wrote a short epistle to Captain Scott, who, I assumed, would be the first to find the tent.  Other things we left there were a sextant with a glass horizon, a hypsometer case, three reindeer-skin foot-bags, some kamiks and mits.

When everything had been laid inside, we went into the tent, one by one, to write our names on a tablet we had fastened to the tent-pole.  On this occasion we received the congratulations of our companions on the successful result, for the following messages were written on a couple of strips of leather, sewed to the tent

“Good luck,” and “Welcome to 90deg..”  These good wishes, which we suddenly discovered, put us in very good spirits.  They were signed by Beck and Ronne.  They had good faith in us.  When we had finished this we came out, and the tent-door was securely laced together, so that there was no danger of the wind getting a hold on that side.

And so good-bye to Polheim.  It was a solemn moment when we bared our heads and bade farewell to our home and our flag.  And then the travelling tent was taken down and the sledges packed.  Now the homeward journey was to begin —­ homeward, step by step, mile after mile, until the whole distance was accomplished.  We drove at once into our old tracks and followed them.  Many were the times we turned to send a last look to Polheim.  The vaporous, white air set in again, and it was not long before the last of Polheim, our little flag, disappeared from view.

CHAPTER XIII

The Return to Framheim

The going was splendid and all were in good spirits, so we went along at a great pace.  One would almost have thought the dogs knew they were homeward bound.  A mild, summer-like wind, with a temperature of -22deg.  F., was our last greeting from the Pole.