a cairn, and
then something looking black by its side. A vague kind of wonder
gradually gave way to a real alarm. We came up to them all halted. Wright
came across to us. 'It is the tent.' I do not know how he knew. Just a
waste of snow: to our right the remains of one of last year's cairns, a
mere mound: and then three feet of bamboo sticking quite alone out of the
snow: and then another mound, of snow, perhaps a trifle more pointed. We
walked up to it. I do not think we quite realized--not for very long--but
some one reached up to a projection of snow, and brushed it away. The
green flap of the ventilator of the tent appeared, and we knew that the
door was below.

Two of us entered, through the funnel of the outer tent, and through the
bamboos on which was stretched the lining of the inner tent. There was
some snow--not much--between the two linings. But inside we could see
nothing--the snow had drifted out the light. There was nothing to do but
to dig the tent out. Soon we could see the outlines. There were three men
here.

Bowers and Wilson were sleeping in their bags. Scott had thrown back the
flaps of his bag at the end. His left hand was stretched over Wilson, his
lifelong friend. Beneath the head of his bag, between the bag and the
floor-cloth, was the green wallet in which he carried his diary. The
brown books of diary were inside: and on the floor-cloth were some
letters.

Everything was tidy. The tent had been pitched as well as ever, with the
door facing down the sastrugi, the bamboos with a good spread, the tent
itself taut and shipshape. There was no snow inside the inner lining.
There were some loose pannikins from the cooker, the ordinary tent gear,
the personal belongings and a few more letters and records--personal and
scientific. Near Scott was a lamp formed from a tin and some lamp wick
off a finnesko. It had been used to burn the little methylated spirit
which remained. I think that Scott had used it to help him to write up to
the end. I feel sure that he had died last--and once I had thought that
he would not go so far as some of the others. We never realized how
strong that man was, mentally and physically, until now.

We sorted out the gear, records, papers, diaries, spare clothing,
letters, chronometers, finnesko, socks, a flag. There was even a book
which I had lent Bill for the journey--and he had brought it back.
Somehow we learnt that Amundsen had been to the Pole, and that they too
ha