Wednesday, November 8.—­Camp 5.  Wind with overcast threatening sky continued to a late hour last night.  The question of starting was open for a long time, and many were unfavourable.  I decided we must go, and soon after midnight the advance guard got away.  To my surprise, when the rugs were stripped from the ‘crocks’ they appeared quite fresh and fit.  Both Jehu and Chinaman had a skittish little run.  When their heads were loose Chinaman indulged in a playful buck.  All three started with their loads at a brisk pace.  It was a great relief to find that they had not suffered at all from the blizzard.  They went out six geographical miles, and our section going at a good round pace found them encamped as usual.  After they had gone, we waited for the rearguard to come up and joined with them.  For the next 5 miles the bunch of seven kept together in fine style, and with wind dropping, sun gaining in power, and ponies going well, the march was a real pleasure.  One gained confidence every moment in the animals; they brought along their heavy loads without a hint of tiredness.  All take the patches of soft snow with an easy stride, not bothering themselves at all.  The majority halt now and again to get a mouthful of snow, but little Christopher goes through with a non-stop run.  He gives as much trouble as ever at the start, showing all sorts of ingenious tricks to escape his harness.  Yesterday when brought to his knees and held, he lay down, but this served no end, for before he jumped to his feet and dashed off the traces had been fixed and he was in for the 13 miles of steady work.  Oates holds like grim death to his bridle until the first freshness is worn off, and this is no little time, for even after 10 miles he seized a slight opportunity to kick up.  Some four miles from this camp Evans loosed Snatcher momentarily.  The little beast was off at a canter at once and on slippery snow; it was all Evans could do to hold to the bridle.  As it was he dashed across the line, somewhat to its danger.

Six hundred yards from this camp there was a bale of forage.  Bowers stopped and loaded it on his sledge, bringing his weights to nearly 800 lbs.  His pony Victor stepped out again as though nothing had been added.  Such incidents are very inspiriting.  Of course, the surface is very good; the animals rarely sink to the fetlock joint, and for a good part of the time are borne up on hard snow patches without sinking at all.  In passing I mention that there are practically no places where ponies sink to their hocks as described by Shackleton.  On the only occasion last year when our ponies sank to their hocks in one soft patch, they were unable to get their loads on at all.  The feathering of the fetlock joint is borne up on the snow crust and its upward bend is indicative of the depth of the hole made by the hoof; one sees that an extra inch makes a tremendous difference.