mnar
rampart ran almost north and south and the tent was on its eastern
side. So what was in dark shadow on the day before was now radiantly
illumined.

Correll remained behind on the sea-ice with a theodolite to take heights
of the various strata. McLean and I, armed with aneroid, glasses,
ruck-sack, geological hammer (ice-axe) and camera, set out for the foot
of the talus-slope.

The beacons were found to be part of a horizontal, stratified series
of sandstones underlying the igneous rock. There were bands of coarse
gravel and fine examples of stream-bedding interspersed with seams of
carbonaceous shale and poor coal. Among the debris were several pieces
of sandstone marked by black, fossilized plant-remains. The summits
of the beacons were platforms of very hard rock, baked by the volcanic
overflow. The columns, roughly hexagonal and weathered to a dull-red,
stood above in sheer perpendicular lines of six hundred and sixty feet
in altitude.

After taking a dozen photographs of geological and general interest and
stuffing the sack and our pockets with specimens, we picked a track down
the shelving talus to a lake of fresh water which was covered with a
superficial crust of ice beneath which the water ran. The surface was
easily broken and we fetched the aluminium cover of the cooker, filling
it with three gallons of water, thus saving kerosene for almost a day.

After McLean had collected samples of soil, lichens, algae and moss, and
all the treasures had been labelled, we lunched and harnessed-up once
more for the homeward trail.

For four miles we ran parallel to the one-thousand-foot wall of Horn
Bluff meeting several boulders stranded on the ice, as well as the
fragile shell of a tiny sea-urchin. The promontory was domed with snow
and ice, more than one thousand two hundred feet above sea-level. From
it streamed a blue glacier overflowing through a rift in the face. Five
miles on our way, the sledge passed from frictionless ice to rippled
snow and with a march of seven miles, following lunch, we pitched camp.

Every one was tired that night, and our prayer to the Sleep Merchant in
the book of Australian verse was for:

Twenty gallons of balmy sleep,
Dreamless, and deep, and mild,
Of the excellent brand you used to keep
When I was a little child.

For three days, December 22, 23 and 24, the wind soughed at thirty miles
per hour and the sky was a compact nimbus, unveiling the sun at rare