apace--already the matchboarding is being put on. The framework is
being clothed. It should be extraordinarily warm and comfortable,
for in addition to this double coating of insulation, dry seaweed in
quilted sacking, I propose to stack the pony fodder all around it.

I am wondering how we shall stable the ponies in the winter.

The only drawback to the present position is that the ice is getting
thin and sludgy in the cracks and on some of the floes. The ponies drop
their feet through, but most of them have evidently been accustomed
to something of the sort; they make no fuss about it. Everything
points to the desirability of the haste which we are making--so we
go on to-morrow, Sunday.

A whole host of minor ills besides snow blindness have come upon
us. Sore faces and lips, blistered feet, cuts and abrasions; there are
few without some troublesome ailment, but, of course, such things are
'part of the business.' The soles of my feet are infernally sore.

'Of course the elements are going to be troublesome, but it is good
to know them as the only adversary and to feel there is so small a
chance of internal friction.'

Ponting had an alarming adventure about this time. Bent on getting
artistic photographs with striking objects, such as hummocked floes
or reflecting water, in the foreground, he used to depart with his
own small sledge laden with cameras and cinematograph to journey
alone to the grounded icebergs. One morning as he tramped along
harnessed to his sledge, his snow glasses clouded with the mist of
perspiration, he suddenly felt the ice giving under his feet. He