As we reached the
smooth salt-water ice, we turned to take a last look at Camp Daly,
which had been so long our home--a comfortless dwelling-place indeed,
but for all that a home--and I never expect to lose a feeling of
affection for its barren rocks and forbidding scenery. Its snow-clad
hills were almost hidden behind the hummocks that everywhere bound the
shore and make it a difficult undertaking to get on or off the ice at
low tide. The loaded sledges were making but slow progress as they
wound through the rough ice, but greatly enlivened the landscape, which
at other times is dreary and monotonous in the extreme. The drivers, by
voice and whip, were urging on their teams; while the dogs made the
wilderness ring with howls of pain or impatience. The men were bending
their shoulders to the task, as the women and children walked ahead and
coaxed the dogs to greater exertion. It was not difficult, as we looked
upon this picture, to realize that we were at least under way, and the
work for which we had renounced the comforts of civilization for so
long a period had at last begun, and our spirits rose with the prospect
of action.
[Illustration: CAMP DALY IN WINTER.]
It was not Lieutenant Schwatka's intention to make a long march this
day, but to break loose from camp and get well straightened out on our
course.
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