Snow-shoes were put on by the infantry when the tableland was gained. After this it was all plain sailing.
When tired of talking, Ingomar and Curtis started a song—a song to suit the pace, but one with melody in it, and the boys joined in the chorus.
This was only breaking the ice (figuratively), for before the two hours’ drag was over, many such were sung.
Luncheon, as before, on the snow.
Bears had frozen seal and biscuits, the Yak-Yaks had the same, the white men a nice luncheon, and all had coffee or snow, as they chose.
The boys had snow to-day.
“Don’t spare it, lads,” cried Ingomar; “there’s plenty more in the larder.”
After the post-prandial pipes, Curtis got up and drew out his note-book. Everything was unpacked, seen to, and once more placed in order.
It was a most pleasant outing; all hands confessed that this was true enjoyment, and not roughing it. Gypsying, picnicking—call it what you please, but just add the words, “jolly good fun.”
The dogs had their trial next day, a whole pack of them; and the trial, twenty miles, was done in half the time, only they did not have the same great load.