It so happened that whilst we two were working around Glacier Tongue this
spring doing survey work we had to come in to Cape Evans for some
purpose. We had a hard run out on ski to our camp, and my short legs
found great effort necessary to keep pace with the swarthy ski-runner.
Once arrived at the survey camp I puffed and blew and sank nearly
exhausted on my sleeping-bag in the tent. I told Gran we must have some
tea before re-commencing work, and reached out to get the cooker ready.
Gran asked me what I fancied most in the world, and my reply was--a pint
of champagne.

He laughed and asked me what I would give him for that same, to which I
articulated, "FIVE POUNDS," and sank my tired head between my knees.
Noiselessly the Norwegian glided from the tent to reappear with the
stolen champagne bottle. I smiled delightedly, and soon we were hard at
work cooking the champagne into its liquid state once more, for it was of
course hard frozen in the low temperature.

When we got the stuff melted it had lost its "fizz," but it tasted
nectar-like even from our aluminium sledge mugs, and such was the
stimulus from it that we worked until darkness had set in. I have never
paid the five pounds, for the reason that Gran chose a dinner party at
the Grand Hotel, Christiania instead: from a financial point of view I
should have gained by paying--but that is another story and has no
connection with the Frozen South.

On October 13 we finished the coast survey in McMurdo Sound: generally
the weather was wretched, but this notwithstanding we got along fairly
well with our work. Once back in the Hut there was plenty to be done
preparing for the Southern Journey.