The outside world knew, of course, of our program, and was told also
of Lake's strange and dogged insistence on a westward--or rather,
northwestward--prospecting trip before our radical shift to the new
base. It seems that he had pondered a great deal and with alarmingly radical
daring over that triangular striated marking in the slate; reading into
it certain contradictions in nature and geological period which whetted
his curiosity to the utmost, and made him avid to sink more borings
and blastings in the west-stretching formation to which the exhumed
fragments evidently belonged. He was strangely convinced that the marking was the print of some
bulky, unknown, and radically unclassifiable organism of considerably
advanced evolution, notwithstanding that the rock which bore it was of
so vastly ancient a date--Cambrian if not actually pre-Cambrian--as to
preclude the probable existence not only of all highly evolved life,
but of any life at all above the unicellular or at most the trilobite
stage. These fragments, with their odd marking, must have been five
hundred million to a thousand million years old. II. Popular imagination, I judge, responded actively to our wireless
bulletins of Lake's start northwestward into regions never trodden
by human foot or penetrated by human imagination, though we did not
mention his wild hopes of revolutionizing the entire sciences of
biology and geology. His preliminary sledging and boring journey of January 11th to 18th
with Pabodie and five others--marred by the loss of two dogs in an
upset when crossing one of the great pressure ridges in the ice--had
brought up more and more of the Archæan slate; and even I was
interested by the singular profusion of evident fossil markings in that
unbelievably ancient stratum. These markings, however, were of very primitive life forms involving
no great paradox except that any life forms should occur in rock as
definitely pre-Cambrian as this seemed to be; hence I still failed to
see the good sense of Lake's demand for an interlude in our time-saving
program--an interlude requiring the use of all four planes, many men,
and the whole of the expedition's mechanical apparatus. I did not, in the end, veto the plan, though I decided not to accompany
the northwestward party despite Lake's plea for my geological advice. While they were gone, I would remain at the base with Pabodie and five
men and work out final plans for the eastward shift. In preparation for
this transfer, one of the planes had begun to move up a good gasoline
supply from McMurdo Sound; but this could wait temporarily. I kept
with me one sledge and nine dogs, since it is unwise to be at any time
without possible transportation in an utterly tenantless world of
æon-long death. Lake's subexpedition into the unknown, as every one will recall, sent
out its own reports from the short-wave transmitters on the planes;
these being simultaneously picked up by our apparatus at the southern
base and by the _Arkham_ at McMurdo Sound, whence they were relayed to
the outside world on wave lengths up to fifty meters. The start was made January 22nd at 4 a.m.; and the first wireless
message we received came only two hours later, when Lake spoke of
descending and starting a small-scale ice-melting and bore at a point
some three hundred miles away from us. Six hours after that a second
and very excited message told of the frantic, beaverlike work whereby a
shallow shaft had been sunk and blasted, culminating in the discovery
of slate fragments with several markings approximately like the one
which had caused the original puzzlement. Three hours later a brief bulletin announced the resumption of the
flight in the teeth of a raw and piercing gale; and when I dispatched
a message of protest against further hazards, Lake replied curtly that
his new specimens made any hazard worth taking. I saw that his excitement had reached the point of mutiny, and that I
could do nothing to check this headlong risk of the whole expedition's
success; but it was appalling to think of his plunging deeper and
deeper into that treacherous and sinister white immensity of tempests
and unfathomed mysteries which stretched off for some fifteen hundred
miles to the half-known, half-suspected coast line of Queen Mary and
Knox Lands. *       *       *       *       *

Then, in about an hour and a half more, came that doubly excited
message from Lake's moving plane, which almost reversed my sentiments
and made me wish I had accompanied the party:

    "10:05 p.m. On the wing. After snowstorm, have spied mountain range
    ahead higher than any hitherto seen. May equal Himalayas, allowing
    for height of plateau. Probable Latitude 76° 15´, Longitude 113° 10´
    E. Reaches far as can see to right and left. Suspicion of two
    smoking cones. All peaks black and bare of snow. Gale blowing off
    them impedes navigation." After that Pabodie, the men, and I hung breathlessly over the receiver. Thought of this titanic mountain rampart seven hundred miles away
inflamed our deepest sense of adventure; and we rejoiced that our
expedition, if not ourselves personally, had been its discoverers. In
half an hour Lake called us again:

    "Moulton's plane forced down on plateau in foothills, but nobody
    hurt and perhaps can repair. Shall transfer essentials to other
    three for return or further moves if necessary, but no more heavy
    plane travel needed just now. Mountains surpass anything in
    imagination. Am going up scouting in Carroll's plane, with all
    weight out. "You can't imagine anything like this. Highest peaks must go over
    thirty-five thousand feet. Everest out of the running, Atwood to
    work out height with theodolite while Carroll and I go up. Probably
    wrong about cones, for formations look stratified. Possibly
    pre-Cambrian slate with other strata mixed in. Queer sky line
    effects--regular sections of cubes clinging to highest peaks. Whole
    thing marvelous in red-gold light of low sun. Like land of mystery
    in a dream or gateway to forbidden world of untrodden wonder. Wish
    you were here to study." Though it was technically sleeping time, not one of us listeners
thought for a moment of retiring. It must have been a good deal
the same at McMurdo Sound, where the supply cache and the _Arkham_
were also getting the messages; for Captain Douglas gave out a call
congratulating everybody on the important find, and Sherman, the cache
operator, seconded his sentiments. We were sorry, of course, about the
damaged aëroplane, but hoped it could be easily mended. Then, at eleven
p.m., came another call from Lake:

    "Up with Carroll over highest foothills. Don't dare try really tall
    peaks in present weather, but shall later. Frightful work climbing,
    and hard going at this altitude, but worth it. Great range fairly
    solid, hence can't get any glimpses beyond. Main summits exceed
    Himalayas, and very queer.