“And grief is the parent of Fame, often enough, Curtis.”
“I got away on long leave to travel on a semi-scientific expedition with some geologists, and you know it was there I met your beautiful sister. I wonder, brother, if we three shall ever meet again—Marie, you, and I.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Ingomar,
“‘When the hurly-burly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.’
And now to bag, my boy, for the hurly-burly must begin in earnest to-morrow.”
* * * * *
It was snowing fast next day when they turned their backs on the great Antarctic sea of ice, and began to retrace their steps back to the camp, where they had left their companions.
No snow nor tempest must bar their progress now, if they would return before their food stores were finished.
Somehow going back is a less exciting experience than going forward with an object in view. The object is gained, and one must think of something else to keep one’s spirits up.