TO MY READERS

     Will you walk with me a while in the paths of adventure? For that is what this book is to deal with—adventures in Polar Ice, far out upon the broad sea, and high up in the air which cov­ers them both. By adventure I mean strange and thrilling experiences which come to one who sets out, not for adventure, not for hardships, not for narrow escapes from death, but with a desire to achieve something in the way of ex­ploration and scientific progress for the good of mankind and the advancement of knowledge; and who, in this spirit endeavoring, experiences more of adventure, danger and hardship, and ill fortune followed by the fair that leaves life in­tact after hope had almost gone, than he had ever dreamed of—so much, perhaps that if he could have foreseen it all he would never have had the courage to venture forth from the quiet of his home. 

     Scientific achievement was the purpose and moving spirit, adventure and danger the inci­dents which the fates would have, of all the activities with which this volume deals. I make no apology for thus frankly characterizing it: for in my philosophy even adventure for mere adventure's sake (and ours, as I say, is much more) is always worth while. In this plodding commercial age, this day of humdrum money grubbing and of the routine though admirable round of quite duty doing, it is a good thing, I think, for the few of us who can to leave the beaten track, fare forth into strange fields, and strive mightily to do things which are exceedingly difficult and dangerous and the more fascinating because they are difficult and dangerous. It is a good thing to stir the blood into faster coursing through the veins, to warm the heart with sym­pathy and anxiety for one's comrades, to dream a few waking dreams, to live a few romances in real life. 

     My comrades? Yes, I like to speak of them. They are close to my heart. I shall tell you much about them in these pages. It has been my fortune to have with me, in polar sledging trips, in long Arctic nights, in airship voyages over the ice fields and glaciers of the far north, and in a thousand mile flight over the stormy waters of the Atlantic, men brave, true, loyal, heroic. They have won my love and admiration: and I want them to have yours. With joy I shall tell you of their deeds of daring, their endurance, their valor. Without them I should have done little. Always, in every campaign, they did far more than I. And yet, no mock modesty, no strain­ing for effect, shall preclude my speaking of myself whenever and wherever I am a proper part of the story. For the story is the thing, after all. 

     This history of scientific adventure will, I trust, do much better than thrill or amuse the reader. It is my hope to put in these pages so much of scientific fact and data concerning the polar regions, the ocean of the atmosphere, navi­gation of the air and all the physics, chemistry, arts, sciences, mechanics, involved in it—the range is almost as wide as the horizon of human achievement—and to write it all in such clear, simple, plain, unpretentious, popular way that in the end my reader shall be forced to confess he has not only been entertained but instructed ; and perchance that he has acquired the very in­formation and insight as to the mysteries of aerial navigation which he had long sought and never before found. 

     All my life I have been writing for the peo­ple. To please, to inform, to help educate, to win the approval of the people, is, I admit, the very breath of life in my nostrils. Always have I looked upon the masses of the people as my masters, upon myself as their servant. I lay no claim to great scientific knowledge, nor to honors or titles. As a plain, simple man, coming from the farm through the country school house and the village printing office to metropolitan jour­nalism, association with presidents and the high­est in the land, studying and writing of life and questions and policies and great events, and finally as a man of action trying to do a few things in the world on my own account, I have never for a moment lost or desired to lose any of this feeling that far beyond my humble deserts there exists a strong bond of sympathy and mutual understanding between the people—the real people who make up the bulk of the pyramid of society, not the few who imagine themselves as composing its apex—and myself. 

     If this book, which in a sense is the story of my life of activity apart from my quarter cen­tury of work in journalism, shall serve to pre­serve and perpetuate that happy relationship between the people and the penman, no other reward or compensation do I crave.