We are making about 10 geographical miles nightly. The ponies are doing well.
An amusing incident happened when Wright left his pony to examine his sledgemeter. Chinaman evidently didn't like being left behind and set off at a canter to rejoin the main party. Wright's long legs barely carried him fast enough to stop this fatal stampede, but the ridiculous sight was due to the fact that old Jehu caught the infection and set off at a sprawling canter in Chinaman's wake. As this is the pony we thought scarcely capable of a single march at the start, one is agreeably surprised to find him still displaying such commendable spirit.
The dogs follow us so easily over the 10 miles that Meares thought of going on again, but finally decided that the present easy work is best.
Things look hopeful. The weather is beautiful—temp. -12 with a bright sun. There is an annoying little southerly wind blowing now, and this serves to show the beauty of our snow walls. The ponies are standing under their lee in the bright sun as comfortable as can possibly be.
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