In the Great White Land by Gordon Stables

I was obliged to belay my jawing tackle, as sailors say, in that last chapter, and to cut short my yarn, else my subject, which is to me a most interesting one, might have led me to forget poor lonesome Curtis and Ingomar, sledging, ski-ing, and toiling on and on across bitter untrodden tracks to plant the British and American flags further south on solid land than ever they have been hoisted before.

The same plan was adopted as before, of climbing hills every day to plan out the next day's journey.