Fatal procrastination. Our one-dimensional position. An extraordinary ornithological display. I confide in Swank. His plan. I capture my vision. The Klinkas. An embarrassing incident.
Chapter VI
The succeeding days were occupied with the business of getting settled. Our eight-day clock recorded July 7th before we finally got down to work. By throwing up a waist-high wall around the base of the cairn we formed a circular dugout into which we moved our belongings, a man to each segment. Already the weather had begun to moderate and I found my medium-longs comfortable.
Sections of our camp were covered with tarpaulins and of course we had the Kawa to retire to in case of need. A passing shower warned me that the short Arctic summer was waning but I figured that we had ample time to remain at least three weeks longer. We had but begun our scientific work, our food supply was generously sufficient, and moreover, my men had come a long way and were entitled to a rest.
Ah! How vainly does the mind of man delude itself with false reasoning. Back in my brain nibbled the maggot of curiosity. Deep in my man-being the age-old impulse lusted for a sight of the mysterious ice-maiden. Like the old viking in the Saga—"Moe entilgig sas, moe Tillig as var—"[17] I would have procrastinated forever. As it was my delay ... but I am now getting south of myself.