Down on the sea-ice stood Prestrud with the cinematograph, turning the crank as fast as he could go as we went past.  When we came up on to the Barrier on the other side, he was there again, turning incessantly.  The last thing I saw, as we went over the top of the ridge and everything familiar disappeared, was a cinematograph; it was coming inland at full speed.  I had been engaged in looking out ahead, and turned round suddenly to throw a last glance in the direction of the spot that to us stood for all that was beautiful on earth, when I caught sight of —­ what do you think?  A cinematograph.  “He can’t be taking anything but air now, can he?” —­ “Hardly that.”  The cinematograph vanished below the horizon.

The going was excellent, but the atmosphere became thicker as we went inland.  For the first twelve miles from the edge of the Barrier I had been sitting with Hassel, but, seeing that Wisting’s dogs could manage two on the sledge better than the others, I moved.  Hanssen drove first; he had to steer by compass alone, as the weather had got thicker.  After him came Bjaaland, then Hassel, and, finally, Wisting and I. We had just gone up a little slope, when we saw that it dropped rather steeply on the other side; the descent could not be more than 20 yards long.  I sat with my back to the dogs, looking aft, and was enjoying the brisk drive.  Then suddenly the surface by the side of the sledge dropped perpendicularly, and showed a yawning black abyss, large enough to have swallowed us all, and a little more.  A few inches more to one side, and we should have taken no part in the Polar journey.  We guessed from this broken surface that we had come too far to the east, and altered our course more westerly.  When we had reached safer ground, I took the opportunity of putting on my ski and driving so; in this way the weight was more distributed.  Before very long it cleared a little, and we saw one of our mark-flags straight ahead.  We went up to it; many memories clung to the spot —­ cold and slaughter of dogs.  It was there we had killed the three puppies on the last trip.

We had then covered seventeen miles, and we camped, well pleased with the first day of our long journey.  My belief that, with all in one tent, we should manage our camping and preparations much better than before was fully justified.  The tent went up as though it arose out of the ground, and everything was done as though we had had long practice.  We found we had ample room in the tent, and our arrangements worked splendidly the whole time.  They were as follows:  as soon as we halted, all took a hand at the tent.  The pegs in the valance of the tent were driven in, and Wisting crept inside and planted the pole, while the rest of us stretched the guy-ropes.  When this was done, I went in, and all the things that were to go inside were handed in to me —­ sleeping-bags, kit-bags, cookers, provisions.  Everything was put in its place, the Primus lighted,