Atkinson's foot isn't getting any better and he shan't be able to walk on it for some days. I must leave him here, and have asked Crean to stay with him. He can fetch loads of fodder from the last camp and dig a big hole in the Barrier ice for observations. That'll keep him busy while playing nursemaid.
I sent Gran to the Discovery Hut with our last mail. The Terra Nova will pick it up and take it back to New Zealand for us. He was gone 4 hours in ski, and as the wind had sprung up I was most anxious to get him back.
The good news, I suppose, is that our food allowance seems to be very ample, and if we go on as at present we shall thrive amazingly.
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