THE FIRST WINTER 179 
we travelled farther on the Barrier, the arrival of the dogs 
after their rapid journey home, starved rakes which looked 
as though they were absolutely done—these were not cheer- 
ful recollections with which to start to plan a journey of 
eighteen hundred miles. 
On the other hand, we had ten ponies left, though two 
or three of them were of more than doubtful quality; and 
it was obvious that considerable improvement could and 
must be made in the feeding of both ponies and dogs. With 
regard to the dogs the remedy was plain; their ration was 
too small. With regard to the ponies the question was not 
so simple. One of the main foods for the ponies which we 
had brought was compressed fodder in the shape of bales. 
Theoretically this fodder was excellent food value, and was 
made of wheat which was cut green and pressed. Whether 
it was really wheat or not I do not know, but there could 
be no two opinions about its nourishing qualities for our 
ponies. When fed upon it they lost weight until they were 
just skin and bone. Poor beasts! It was pitiful to see them. 
In Oates we had a man who had forgotten as much as 
most men know about horses. It was no fault of his that 
this fodder was inadequate, nor that we had lost so many 
of the best ponies which we had. Oates had always been 
for taking the worst ponies out on the Depot Journey: 
travelling as far on to the Barrier as they could go, and 
there killing them and dep6ting their flesh. Now Oates 
took the ten remaining ponies into his capable hands. 
Some of them were scarecrows, especially poor Jehu, who 
was never expected to start at all, and ended by gallantly 
pulling his somewhat diminished load eight marches be- 
yond One Ton Camp, a distance of 238 miles. Another, 
Christopher, was a man-killer if ever a horse was; he had 
to be thrown in order to attach him to the sledge; to the 
end he would lay out any man who was rash enough to 
give him the chance ; once started, and it took four men to 
achieve this, it was impossible to halt him during the day’s 
march, and so Oates and his three tent mates and their 
ponies had to go without any lunch meal for 130 miles of 
the Southern Journey. 
