But the rescued dogs which were necessarily running about loose on the Barrier, in their mangled harnesses, chose this moment to start a free fight with the other team.  With a hurried shout down the crevasse we had to rush off to separate them.  Nougis I. had been considerably mauled before this was done—­also, incidentally, my heel!  But at last we separated them, and hauled Scott to the surface.  It was all three of us could do and our fingers were frost-bitten towards the end.

Scott’s interest in the incident, apart from the recovery of the dogs, was scientific.  Since we were running across the line of cleavage when the dogs went down, it was to be expected that we should be crossing the crevasses at right angles, and not be travelling, as actually happened, parallel to, or along them.  While we were getting him up the sixty odd feet to which we had lowered him he kept muttering:  “I wonder why this is running the way it is—­you expect to find them at right angles,” and when down the crevasse he wanted to go off exploring, but we managed to persuade him that the snow-ledge upon which he was standing was utterly unsafe, and indeed we could see the nothingness below through the blue holes in the shelf.  Another regret was that we had no thermometer:  the temperature of the inside of the Barrier is of great interest and a fairly reliable record of the average temperature throughout the year might have been obtained when so far down into it.  Altogether we could congratulate ourselves on a fortunate ending to a nasty business.  We expected several more miles of crevasses, and the wind was getting up, driving the surface drift like smoke over the ground, with a very black sky to the south.  We pitched the tent, had a good meal and mended the dog harness which had been ruthlessly cut in clearing the dogs.  Luckily we found no more crevasses for it was now blowing hard, and rescue work would have been difficult, and we pushed on as far as possible that night, doing eleven miles after lunch, and sixteen for the day.  It had been strenuous, for we had been working in or over the crevasse for 21/2 hours, and dogs and men were tired out.  It cleared and became quite warm as we camped.  There was a pleasant air of friendship in the tent that night, rather more than usual.  That is generally the result of this kind of business.

We reached Safety Camp next day (February 22) anxious for news of the ship’s doings, the landing of Campbell’s party, and of the ponies which had been sent back from the Bluff Depot.  Lieutenant Evans, Forde and Keohane, the pony leaders, were there, but only one pony.  The other two had died of exhaustion soon after they left us and we had passed the cairns which marked their graves without knowledge.  Their story was grim, and they had had a mournful journey back.  First Blossom, and then Bluecher collapsed, their ends being hastened by the blizzard of February 1.