“Victor, my pony, has taken to leading the line, like his opposite number last season.  He is a steady goer, and as gentle as a dear old sheep.  I can hardly realize the strenuous times I had with him only a month ago, when it took about four of us to get him harnessed to a sledge, and two of us every time with all our strength to keep him from bolting when in it.  Even at the start of the journey he was as nearly unmanageable as any beast could be, and always liable to bolt from sheer excess of spirits.  He is more sober now after three weeks of featureless Barrier, but I think I am more fond of him than ever.  He has lost his rotundity, like all the other horses, and is a long-legged, angular beast, very ugly as horses go, but still I would not change him for any other.”

The ponies were fed by their leaders at the lunch and supper halts, and by Oates and Bowers during the sleep halt about four hours before we marched.  Several of them developed a troublesome habit of swinging their nosebags off, some as soon as they were put on, others in their anxiety to reach the corn still left uneaten in the bottom of the bag.  We had to lash their bags on to their headstalls.  “Victor got hold of his head rope yesterday, and devoured it:  not because he is hungry, as he won’t eat all his allowance even now."[203]

The original intention was that Day and Hooper should return from 80 deg. 30’, but it was now decided that their unit of four should remain intact for a few days, and constitute a light man-hauling advance party to make the track.

The weather was much more pleasant and we saw the sun most days, while I note only one temperature below -20 deg. since leaving One Ton.  The ponies sank in a cruel distance some days, but we were certainly not overworking them and they had as much food as they could eat.  We knew the grim part was to come, but we never realized how grim it was to be.  From this Northern Barrier Depot the ponies were mostly drawing less than 500 lbs. and we had hopes of getting through to the glacier without much difficulty.  All depended on the weather, and just now it was glorious, and the ponies were going steadily together.  Jehu, the crockiest of the crocks, was led back along the track and shot on the evening of November 24, having reached a point at least 15 miles beyond that where Shackleton shot his first pony.  When it is considered that it was doubtful whether he could start at all this must be conceded to have been a triumph of horse-management in which both Oates and Atkinson shared, though neither so much as Jehu himself, for he must have had a good spirit to have dragged his poor body so far.  “A year’s care and good feeding, three weeks’ work with good treatment, a reasonable load and a good ration, and then a painless end.  If anybody can call that cruel I cannot either understand it or agree with them.”  Thus Bowers, who continues:  “The midnight sun reflected from the snow has started to burn my face and lips.  I smear them with hazeline before turning in, and find it a good thing.  Wearing goggles has absolutely prevented any recurrence of snow-blindness.  Captain Scott says they make me see everything through rose-coloured spectacles.”