The Press., 1914-06-17
A RACE FOR FOOD
It Was Slow and Painful and Over
 Arctic Ice Fields. 4>
PLIGHT OF TWO EXPLORERS.

Their Fight Against Death by Starva-
 tion and the Visions That Were Con-
 jured Up by the Torture of the Mad
 denins Panss of Hunger.
 The terrible phantom that haunts every traveller in the desert is the pos. sibility that he will not find water. The arctic explorer rarely suffers from thirst. but another dangV'. equally terrible and menacing, Is always on his traiI-starvation.
 In Lost In the Arctic CapVain Ejnar Mikkelsen, the explorer who. after having been given up for dead for over two years, was picked up in east Greenland by a sailing vessel, gives a graphic account of his race against hunger. Their sledge dogs dead. their outfits abandoned, every morsel of food long since devoured. the only hope of! Mlkkelsen and his companion was to reach 17 KilOmeter Naesset where, on the fall trip. they had left a few tins of food.
 Every two hours we make a short halt, but the rest is spoiled by the thought of the uncomfortable quarter of an hour that awaits us when we start and try to get our stiffened mus cIes Into working order again. Our feet especially are very painful: the ankles are swollen and horribly tender.
 'The bangs of hunger increase every minute. For my own part. can think of nothing but food. At first my thoughts dwell upon all sorts of dishes, but gradually they concentrate them selves upon sandwiches-Danish sand wiches. In particular my fancy turns upon the food that have seen given away to beggars, and l grow furious at the thought of the contempt with which these gentry often regard such gifts
 Gradually the thought takes posses sion of me that am walking in the streets of Copenhagen. eagerly on the lookout for sandwiches, Suddenly l spy what l am seeking. little white object lying to the right of me. ] turn to pick it up. but as l stop my foot strikes against a stone. The shock brings me back to stern reality. take in my belt and stagger on again
 "Iversen is in no better case. ] notice that be frequently stops and peers through the fieldglass at something on ahead: then he lets the glass fall again, with a shake of the head. Once or twice I ask what he Is looking at. but the answer is always the same-he thought he had discovered case of provisions. but 1t turned out to be a rock.
 According to our reckoning, we ought to reach IT Kilometer Naesset by about in the evening. We keep sharp lookout for the point and sight something about 4 o'clock that looks like it. Once more. however, We are doomed to disappointment It is not the point
 I've pass many old camping places relics of the Denmark expedition; but although we search long and carefully among the old tins for any remains ot food. we find nothing In the gather ing darkness every point we approach seems to us the one we seek. Encour aged by the thought of food. we re
  close enough to see that 1t is not the point our flickering flame of energy dies down. and we stagger sullenly along with bowed heads
 We have no longer any idea of our wherea bouts. and it is indescribably nncanny to see time after time the same headland with the two small hil locks at it's foot. the ghost of IT Kilo meter Naesset. About 10 o'clock. half mad with hunger and exhaustion. we give it up and, creeping as close to gether as possible, try to sleep But the pain in Ivcrsen's leg is so great that he cannot sleep. and be is half out of his mind. He wakes me at mid night and begs me to go on
 ''1t is bitterly cold. and the wind has shifted so that 1t is blowing in our faces. Staggering unsteadily and feel ing our way with our sticks of we go into the darkness.
 'FtnaIly, after another long march We sight point that resembles 17 KilOmeter Naesset, and this time 1t Is no trick of the imagination. The race is won, for at the point we find fuel a nd tins of soup and peas" &:a'