was well.  We legged it into the void for nearly seven miles beyond X Cairn when I suddenly found myself only a few yards away from another cairn.  This shows that somehow, without the use of tracks or landmarks, we had marched seven miles without being able to see thirty yards, and had yet hit off the direct track to a T; of course, it was only coincidence, though some people might credit themselves with superlative navigating powers on such evidence.  The wind increased, and with the knowledge I now have of blizzards I would camp at once.  Then I thought it better to shove on, as the ponies were marching splendidly.  The danger lay in the fact that though it is easy enough for you to march with the wind behind, you can’t march for ever and you will probably get tired before the wind does.  Camping in a stiff breeze is always difficult, to say nothing of a gale; and for three men with five ponies to manage would be wellnigh impossible.  Fortunately for us this was not really a blizzard, though it was quite near enough to one.  The sky broke later and showed the Bluff and White Island, and then the scurrying clouds of drift would encircle us to break again and come on again.

After having done seventeen miles we got a lull and stopped to camp right away.  We were pretty quick about it, and fortunately got the ponies picketed, and tent pitched, before the wind came down on us again.  We were pretty hungry by the time the walls were erected.  Still we were quite happy, ate everything we could get, except the three lumps of sugar I always kept for old Uncle Bill out of my whack.  The little blow blew itself out towards evening and in perfect calm and sunshine I got a splendid set of observations.  Erebus and Terror were showing up as clear as a bell and I got a large number of angles for Evans’ survey.  We started out as usual, and had the most pleasant, as well as the longest, of our return marches on the last day of summer, February 22.  We did eighteen miles right off the reel, the sun was brilliant from midnight onwards.  He now half immersed himself below the horizon for a short interval once in 24 hours.  All old cairns were visible a tremendous distance, six or seven miles at least for big ones.  Mount Terror lay straight ahead and looked so clear that it seemed impossible to imagine it 70 miles away.  At the end of our march we saw a small cairn beyond our 8th outward camp mound.  Nobody would have rigged up another cairn so close without an object, so the thought of a dead horse flashed through my mind at once.  Titus was so sure that Bluecher would never get back, that he had bet Gran a biscuit on it.  I saw the cairn had a fodder bale on the top, and later saw a note made fast to the wire.  It was in Teddy Evans’ handwriting and to our surprise recorded Blossom’s death.  Titus was so sure that Blossom would survive Bluecher that we started to think back and thus the mystery of X Cairn was clear to me.  I was quite certain now that both the ancient ponies had died and that