The plan was for the ponies to follow the dog tracks, our small party
to start last and get in front of the ponies on the sea ice. I was
very anxious about the sea ice passage owing to the spread of the
water holes.

The ponies started, but Weary Willy, tethered last without a load,
immediately fell down. We tried to get him up and he made efforts,
but was too exhausted.

Then we rapidly reorganised. Cherry-Garrard and Crean went on whilst
Oates and Gran stayed with me. We made desperate efforts to save the
poor creature, got him once more on his legs and gave him a hot oat
mash. Then after a wait of an hour Oates led him off, and we packed
the sledge and followed on ski; 500 yards away from the camp the poor
creature fell again and I felt it was the last effort. We camped,
built a snow wall round him, and did all we possibly could to get him
on his feet. Every effort was fruitless, though the poor thing made
pitiful struggles. Towards midnight we propped him up as comfortably
as we could and went to bed.

_Wednesday, March_ 1, A.M.--Our pony died in the night. It is hard
to have got him back so far only for this. It is clear that these
blizzards are terrible for the poor animals. Their coats are not good,
but even with the best of coats it is certain they would lose condition
badly if caught in one, and we cannot afford to lose condition at
the beginning of a journey. It makes a late start _necessary for
next year_.

Well, we have done our best and bought our experience at a heavy
cost. Now every effort must be bent on saving the remaining animals,