Along that pathway in the wake of the moon we advanced
in safety, with the shadows cast by the edges of crevasses showing
black on either side of us. Onwards and upwards through soft snow we
marched, resting now and then on hard patches which had revealed
themselves by glittering ahead of us in the white light. By midnight
we were again at an elevation of about 4000 ft. Still we were
following the light, for as the moon swung round towards the north-
east, our path curved in that direction. The friendly moon seemed to
pilot our weary feet. We could have had no better guide. If in bright
daylight we had made that march we would have followed the course that
was traced for us that night.
Midnight found us approaching the edge of a great snowfield, pierced
by isolated nunataks which cast long shadows like black rivers across
the white expanse. A gentle slope to the north-east lured our all-too-
willing feet in that direction. We thought that at the base of the
slope lay Stromness Bay. After we had descended about 300 ft. a thin
wind began to attack us. We had now been on the march for over twenty
hours, only halting for our occasional meals. Wisps of cloud drove
over the high peaks to the southward, warning us that wind and snow
were likely to come. After 1 a.m. we cut a pit in the snow, piled up
loose snow around it, and started the Primus again.
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