Page 230

228

[Oh dear people. "Bring on de resarbe!"

Tuesday Dec 26.

The moon nearly above the cliffs
- the thermometer -57° to -45°. The
mean of the past four days being [blank].
In the midst of this cheering conjunction
I have ahead of me a journey of at
least one hundred miles to say nothing
of the return. Worse than this I dread
the journey, don't want to go, but am
forced to: [use me up or not use me
up. Craving Gods blessing I have] to go
out in search of meat.

McGeary and Brooks are
rapidly sinking, and walrus beef
alone can sustain them. By a merciul
change of conditions I am the strongest
as last winter I was the weakest of
my party and the duty of collecting
food falls on me. — I shall
go first to Leiper Bay Esquimaux and
thence if the hunt fails to
Cape Robertson.

My misgivings are mostly
on account of the dogs, for it is a
rugged hummocked drive of 22 hours
even with [standard] strong teams and Esquimaux
drivers. We have salt[ed?] beef, [?] worn
out dogs, in number barely enough to
carry our lightest load. [Seven]
— Should they perish by the tetanoid
fits upon the road we might suffer.

I do not fear the cold. [I'm
an old hand now] Clad in furs, we are impregnable
if under exercise, but if I
should be forced to walk and give
out, no garments would save me
from the cold. I look to a temperature
of at least -54°, and the