finally linoleum; as the plenteous volcanic sand can be piled well up on every side it is impossible to imagine that draughts can penetrate into the hut from beneath, and it is equally impossible to imagine great loss of heat by contact or radiation in that direction.  To add to the wall insulation the south and east sides of the hut are piled high with compressed forage bales, whilst the north side is being prepared as a winter stable for the ponies.  The stable will stand between the wall of the hut and a wall built of forage bales, six bales high and two bales thick.  This will be roofed with rafters and tarpaulin, as we cannot find enough boarding.  We shall have to take care that too much snow does not collect on the roof, otherwise the place should do excellently well.

Some of the ponies are very troublesome, but all except two have been running to-day, and until this evening there were no excitements.  After tea Oates suggested leading out the two intractable animals behind other sledges; at the same time he brought out the strong, nervous grey pony.  I led one of the supposedly safe ponies, and all went well whilst we made our journey; three loads were safely brought in.  But whilst one of the sledges was being unpacked the pony tied to it suddenly got scared.  Away he dashed with sledge attached; he made straight for the other ponies, but finding the incubus still fast to him he went in wider circles, galloped over hills and boulders, narrowly missing Ponting and his camera, and finally dashed down hill to camp again pretty exhausted—­oddly enough neither sledge nor pony was much damaged.  Then we departed again in the same order.  Half-way over the floe my rear pony got his foreleg foul of his halter, then got frightened, tugged at his halter, and lifted the unladen sledge to which he was tied—­then the halter broke and away he went.  But by this time the damage was done.  My pony snorted wildly and sprang forward as the sledge banged to the ground.  I just managed to hold him till Oates came up, then we started again; but he was thoroughly frightened—­all my blandishments failed when he reared and plunged a second time, and I was obliged to let go.  He galloped back and the party dejectedly returned.  At the camp Evans got hold of the pony, but in a moment it was off again, knocking Evans off his legs.  Finally he was captured and led forth once more between Oates and Anton.  He remained fairly well on the outward journey, but on the homeward grew restive again; Evans, who was now leading him, called for Anton, and both tried to hold him, but to no purpose—­he dashed off, upset his load, and came back to camp with the sledge.  All these troubles arose after he had made three journeys without a hitch and we had come to regard him as a nice, placid, gritty pony.  Now I’m afraid it will take a deal of trouble to get him safe again, and we have three very troublesome beasts instead of two.  I have written this in some detail to show the unexpected difficulties that arise with these animals, and the impossibility of knowing exactly where one stands.  The majority of our animals seem pretty quiet now, but any one of them may break out in this way if things go awry.  There is no doubt that the bumping of the sledges close at the heels of the animals is the root of the evil.