After lunch we packed up and marched on steadily as before.  I don’t like these midnight lunches, but for man the march that follows is pleasant when, as to-day, the wind falls and the sun steadily increases its heat.  The two parties in front of us camped 5 miles beyond Safety Camp, and we reached their camp some half or three-quarters of an hour later.  All the ponies are tethered in good order, but most of them are tired—­Chinaman and Jehu very tired.  Nearly all are inclined to be off feed, but this is very temporary, I think.  We have built walls, but there is no wind and the sun gets warmer every minute.

Mirage.—­Very marked waving effect to east.  Small objects greatly exaggerated and showing as dark vertical lines.

1 P.M.—­Feeding time.  Woke the party, and Oates served out the rations—­all ponies feeding well.  It is a sweltering day, the air breathless, the glare intense—­one loses sight of the fact that the temperature is low (-22 deg.)—­one’s mind seeks comparison in hot sunlit streets and scorching pavements, yet six hours ago my thumb was frostbitten.  All the inconveniences of frozen footwear and damp clothes and sleeping-bags have vanished entirely.

A petrol tin is near the camp and a note stating that the motor passed at 9 P.M. 28th, going strong—­they have 4 to 5 days’ lead and should surely keep it.

‘Bones has eaten Christopher’s goggles.’

This announcement by Crean, meaning that Bones had demolished the protecting fringe on Christopher’s bridle.  These fringes promise very well—­Christopher without his is blinking in the hot sun.

Saturday, November 4.—­Camp 2.  Led march—­started in what I think will now become the settled order.  Atkinson went at 8, ours at 10, Bowers, Oates and Co. at 11.15.  Just after starting picked up cheerful note and saw cheerful notices saying all well with motors, both going excellently.  Day wrote ‘Hope to meet in 80 deg. 30’ (Lat.).’  Poor chap, within 2 miles he must have had to sing a different tale.  It appears they had a bad ground on the morning of the 29th.  I suppose the surface was bad and everything seemed to be going wrong.  They ‘dumped’ a good deal of petrol and lubricant.  Worse was to follow.  Some 4 miles out we met a tin pathetically inscribed, ’Big end Day’s motor No. 2 cylinder broken.’  Half a mile beyond, as I expected, we found the motor, its tracking sledges and all.  Notes from Evans and Day told the tale.  The only spare had been used for Lashly’s machine, and it would have taken a long time to strip Day’s engine so that it could run on three cylinders.  They had decided to abandon it and push on with the other alone.  They had taken the six bags of forage and some odds and ends, besides their petrol and lubricant.  So the dream of great help from the machines is at an end!  The track of the remaining motor goes steadily forward, but now, of course, I shall expect to see it every hour of the march.