snowless strand of Godthaab!

"Wednesday, March 14th. In the evening the dogs all at once began to
bark, as we supposed on account of bears. Sverdrup and I took our guns,
let 'Ulenka' and 'Pan' loose, and set off. There was twilight still,
and the moon, moreover, began to shine. No sooner were the dogs on
the ice than off they started westward like a couple of rockets,
we after them as quickly as we could. As I was jumping over a lane
I thrust one leg through the ice up to the knee. Oddly enough, I
did not get wet through to the skin, though I only had Finn shoes
and frieze gaiters on; but in this temperature, 38 deg. Fahr. below
zero (-39 deg. C.), the water freezes on the cold cloth before it can
penetrate it. I felt nothing of it afterwards; it became, as it were,
a plate of ice armor that almost helped to keep me warm. At a channel
some distance off we at last discovered that it was not a bear the
dogs had winded, but either a walrus or a seal. We saw holes in
several places on the fresh-formed ice where it had stuck its head
through. What a wonderfully keen nose those dogs must have: it was
quite two-thirds of a mile from the ship, and the creature had only
had just a little bit of its snout above the ice. We returned to the
ship to get a harpoon, but saw no more of the animal, though we went
several times up and down the channel. Meanwhile 'Pan,' in his zeal,
got too near the edge of the lane and fell into the water. The ice
was so high that he could not get up on it again without help, and
if I had not been there to haul him up I am afraid he would have been
drowned. He is now lying in the saloon, and making himself comfortable
and drying himself. But he, too, did not get wet through to the skin,
though he was a good time in the water: the inner hair of his close,
coarse coat is quite dry and warm. The dogs look on it as a high treat
to come in here, for they are not often allowed to do so. They go round
all the cabins and look out for a comfortable corner to lie down in.

"Lovely weather, almost calm, sparklingly bright, and moonshine:
in the north the faint flush of evening, and the aurora over the
southern sky, now like a row of flaming spears, then changing into
a silvery veil, undulating in wavy folds with the wind, every here
and there interspersed with red sprays. These wonderful night effects
are ever new, and never fail to captivate the soul."

"Thursday, March 15th. This morning 41.7 deg., and at 8 P