Here we camped and threw up our walls as quickly as possible to shelter the beasts from the cold wind.  Weary was the most annoying, he would deliberately back into his wall and knock the whole structure down.  In the case of my own pony, I had to put the wall out of his reach as his aim in life was to eat it, generally beginning at the bottom.  He would diligently dislodge a block, and bring down the whole fabric.  One cannot be angry with the silly beggars—­Titus says a horse has practically no reasoning power, the thing to do is simply to throw up another wall and keep on at it.

The weather cleared during the night, and the next day, February 19, we started off under ideal conditions, the sun was already dipping pretty low, marks easy to pick up, and on this occasion we could plainly see a cairn over seven miles away, raised by the mirage; the only trouble about seeing things so far off is that they take such an awful time to reach.  Mirage is a great feature down here and one of the most common of optical phenomena on the Barrier; it is often difficult to persuade oneself that open water does not lie ahead.  We passed the scene of Weary Willie’s fight with the dogs during the march and also had an amusing argument as to a dark object on the snow ahead.  At first we thought it was the dog camp again, but it turned out to be an empty biscuit tin, such is the deceptive nature of the light.  Later we sighted our old blizzard camp and decided to utilize the walls again.  Weary Willie was decidedly worse and had to be literally jumped along by the pony to which he was attached.  Within half a mile of the walls Weary refused to go farther, and after wasting some time in vain efforts to urge him on we had to camp where we were, having only done 101/2 miles.  This was very sad, but I took hope from the fact that Titus, who is usually pretty pessimistic, had not yet given up hopes of getting him back alive.  He had an extra whack of oats at the expense of the other ponies, and my big beast made up for his shortage by hauling the sledge towards him with his tethered leg, and forcing his nose into our precious biscuit tank, out of which he helped himself liberally at our expense.  The sledges were now too light to anchor the animals, so we had to peg them down with anything we could and bank them up with snow.

Weary was better the next day (February 20) but we decided at the outset to go no farther than the Bluff Camp where we had left some fodder.  This was barely 10 miles off, yet my old animal showed signs of lassitude before the end; there was nothing alarming, however, and we saw the depot over five miles off which interested the beasts, who see these things and somehow connect them, in the backs of their silly old heads, with food and rest.  Weary Willie made a decided improvement, so we camped in high spirits.  Captain Scott had asked me if possible to take some theodolite observations for the determination of the position of Bluff Camp.  Ours is much farther