“Oates thinks the ponies will get through, but that they have lost condition quicker than he expected.  Considering his usually pessimistic attitude this must be thought a hopeful view.  Personally I am much more hopeful.  I think that a good many of the beasts are actually in better form than when they started, and that there is no need to be alarmed about the remainder, always excepting the weak ones which we have always regarded with doubt.  Well, we must wait and see how things go."[200]

The decision made was to take just enough food to get the ponies to the glacier, allowing for the killing of some of them before that date.  It was obvious that Jehu and Chinaman could not go very much farther, and it was also necessary that ponies should be killed in order to feed the dogs.  The two dog-teams were carrying about a week’s pony food, but they were unable to advance more than a fortnight from One Ton without killing ponies.

This decision practically meant that Scott abandoned the idea of taking ponies up the glacier.  This was a great relief, for the crevassed state of the lower reaches of the glacier as described by Shackleton led us to believe that the attempt was suicidal.  All the winter our brains were exercised to try and devise some method by which the ponies could be driven from behind, and by which the connection between pony and sledge could be loosed if the pony fell into a crevasse, but I confess that there seemed little chance of this happening.  From all we saw of the glacier I am convinced that there is no reasonable chance of getting ponies up it, and that dogs could only be driven down it if the way up was most carefully surveyed and kept on the return.  I am sure that in this kind of uncertainty the mental strain on the leader of a party is less than that on his men.  The leader knows quite well what he thinks worth while risking or not:  in this case Scott probably was always of the opinion that it would not be worth while taking ponies on to the glacier.  The pony leaders, however, only knew that the possibility was ahead of them.  I can remember now the relief with which we heard that it was not intended that Wilson should take Nobby, the fittest of our ponies, farther than the Gateway.

Up to now Christopher had lived up to his reputation, as the following extracts from Bowers’ diary will show:  “Three times we downed him, and he got up and threw us about, with all four of us hanging on like grim death.  He nearly had me under him once; he seems fearfully strong, but it is a pity he wastes so much good energy....  Christopher, as usual, was strapped on three legs and then got down on his knees.  He gets more cunning each time, and if he does not succeed in biting or kicking one of us before long it won’t be his fault.  He finds the soft snow does not hurt his knees like the sea-ice, and so plunges about on them ad lib.  One’s finnesko are so slippery that it is difficult to exert full strength on him, and to-day he bowled