the
youngest and most thoughtless, could stand before that "mute reminder of
heroic bones" without a feeling of reverence and awe. There is something
menacing in that dark silhouette against the white snow, as if the
mysterious Arctic were reminding the intruder that he might be chosen
next to remain with her forever.

Not far away is the _Alert's_ cairn, from which I took the British
record in 1905, a copy of it being replaced by Ross Marvin, according to
the custom of explorers. In view of his tragic end, in the spring of
1909, the farthest north of all deaths known to man, this visit of
Marvin's to the neighborhood of Petersen's grave has a peculiar pathos.

The _Roosevelt_ cairn, erected by Marvin in 1906, is directly abreast of
the ship's location at Cape Sheridan in 1905-06 and about one mile
inland. It is on a high point of land, about four hundred feet above the
water. The record is in a prune can, at the bottom of the pile of
stones, and was written by Marvin himself in lead-pencil. The cairn is
surmounted by a cross, made of the oak plank from our sledge runners. It
faces north, and at the intersection of the upright and the crosspiece
there is a large "R" cut in the wood. When I went up to see it, soon
after our arrival this last time, the cross was leaning toward the
north, as if from the intentness of its three years' northward gazing.

On the 12th of September we had a holiday, it being the fifteenth
birthday of my daughter, Marie Ahnighito, who was born at Anniversary
Lodge, Greenland--the most northerly born of all white children. Ten
years before, we had celebrated her fifth birthday on the Windward. Many
icebergs had drifted down the channels since then, and I was still
following the same ideal which had given my daughter so cold and strange
a birthplace.

There was a driving snowstorm that day, but Bartlett dressed the ship in
all the flags, the full international code, and the bright colors of the
bunting made a striking contrast to the gray-white sky. Percy, the
steward, had baked a special birthday cake, and we had it, surmounted
with fifteen blazing candles, on our supper table. Just after breakfast
the Eskimos came in with a polar bear, a female yearling six feet long,
and I determined to have it mounted for Marie's birthday bear. It should
be standing and advancing, one paw extended as if to shake, the head on
one side and a bearish smile on the face. The bear provided us with
juicy steaks,