1 7 o 
SCOTT'S LAST EXPEDITION 
[February 
sledge meter showed 6i miles. By this time Weary Willy 
had dropped about three-quarters of a mile and the dog 
teams were approaching. Suddenly we heard much 
barking in the distance, and later it was evident that 
something had gone wrong. Oates and I then hurried 
back. I met Mcarcs, who told me the dogs of his team 
had got out of hand and attacked Weary Willy when they 
saw him fall. Finally they had been beaten off and W.W. 
was being led without his sledge. W.W. had been much 
bitten, but luckily I think not seriously : he appears to 
have made a gallant fight, and bit and shook some of the 
dogs with his teeth. Gran did his best, breaking his ski 
stick. Mcares broke his dog stick — one way and another 
the dogs must have had a rocky time, yet they seem to 
bear charmed lives when their blood is up, as apparently 
not one of them has been injured. 
After lunch four of us went back and dragged up the 
load. It taught us the nature of the surface more than 
many hours of pony leading ! ! The incident is deplorable 
and the blame widespread. I find W.W.'s load was much 
heavier than that of the other ponies. 
I blame myself for not supervising these matters more 
effectively and for allowing W.W. to get so far behind. 
We started off again after lunch, but when we had done 
two-thirds of a mile, W.W.'s condition made it advisable 
to halt. He has been given a hot feed, a large snow wall, 
and some extra sacking — the day promises to be quiet and 
warm for him, and one can only hope that these measures 
will put him right again. But the whole thing is very 
annoying. 
