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"Look at that!" Bjaaland said. "It's an island of dogs! There are dogs in the water, near the trees, on the house-dogs everywhere!"

Two men came out of the house. "Hassel! Lindstrom!" Amundsen said. "It's good to see you! How many dogs do you have for me?"

"Ninety-nine, Roald," said Hassel. "The best ninety-nine dogs from Greenland. And they're very happy! They don't work; they just eat and play all day! They're having a wonderful summer here!"

The Fram went to an island in the south of Norway. It was a very little island, with only one small wooden house, two trees -- and nearly a hundred dogs.

"Good, good." Amundsen laughed. "But that's finished now. Hey, Bjaaland! Stop laughing -- come down here and help me. Let's get all these dogs onto the ship!"

It was not easy. The dogs were fat and strong, and they didn't want to go on the ship. But at last, after three hours hard work, all ninety-nine were on the ship, and the Fram went out to sea again.

The men were not happy. The weather was bad, the dogs were dirty, and some of the men were ill. They began to ask questions.

"Don't ask me," said his friend, Helmer Hanssen, "I don't understand it."

"Why are we bringing dogs with us?" asked one man, Johansen. "We're going thousands of kilometres south, past Cape Horn, and then north to Alaska. Why not wait, and get dogs in Alaska?"

The men talked for a long time. Then, on September 9th, Amundsen called everyone to the back of the ship. He stood quietly and looked at them. Behind him was a big map. It was not a map of the Arctic. It was a map of Antarctica.

Bjaaland looked at Helmer Hanssen, and laughed. Then Amundsen began to speak.

"Boys," he said. "I know you are unhappy. You often ask me difficult questions, and I don't answer. Well, I'm going to answer all those questions now, today."

"I don't understand this," Bjaaland thought. "Why is Amundsen talking about the North Pole, with a map of Antarctica behind him?"

We began to work for this journey two years ago. Then, we wanted to be the first men at the North Pole. But last year, Peary, an American, found the North Pole. So America was first to the North Pole, not Norway. We're going there, but we're too late."

Amundsen stopped for a minute, and looked at all the men slowly. No one said anything.

"We have to go a long way south before we get to Alaska," he said. "Very near Antarctica, you know. And Captain Scott, the Englishman, is going to the South Pole this year. He wants to put his British flag there. An American flag at the North Pole, a British flag at the South Pole."

Bjaaland began to understand. He started to smile and couldn't stop. He was warm and excited.

For a minute or two it was very quiet. Amundsen waited, and the men watched him and thought. Then Bjaaland laughed.

"Well, boys," Amundsen said slowly. "Do we want the British to put their flag at the South Pole first? How fast can we travel? We have a lot of dogs, and some of the most wonderful skiers on earth -- Bjaaland here is the best in Norway! So I have an idea, boys. Let's go to the South Pole, and put the Norwegian flag there before the British! What do you say?"

"Yes!" he said. "Why not? It's a ski race, isn't it, and the English can't ski! It's a wonderful idea, of course! Let's go!"