in farther than most and I notice
in Scott's diary that on November 19 the ponies were sinking half-way to
the hock, and Michael once or twice almost to the hock itself. A highly
strung, spirited animal, his off days took the form of fidgets, during
which he would be constantly trying to stop and eat snow, and then rush
forward to catch up the other ponies. Life was a constant source of
wonder to him, and no movement in the camp escaped his notice. Before we
had been long on the Barrier he developed mischievous habits and became a
rope eater and gnawer of other ponies' fringes, as we called the coloured
tassels we hung over their eyes to ward off snow-blindness. However, he
was by no means the only culprit, and he lost his own fringe to Nobby
quite early in the proceedings. It was not that he was hungry, for he
never quite finished his own feed. At any rate he enjoyed the few weeks
before he died, pricking up his ears and getting quite excited when
anything happened, and the arrival of the dog-teams each morning after he
had been tethered sent him to bed with much to dream of. And I must say
his master dreamed pretty regularly too. Michael was killed right in
front of the Gateway on December 4, just before the big blizzard, which,
though we did not know it, was on the point of breaking upon us, and he
was untying his cloth and chewing up everything he could reach to the
last. "It was decided after we camped, and he had his feed already on:
Meares reported that he had no more food for the dogs. He walked away,
and rolled in the snow on the way down, not having done so when we got
in. He was just like a naughty child all the way, and pulled all out. He
has been a good friend, and has a good record, 82 deg. 23' S. He was a bit
done to-day: the blizzard had knocked him. Gallant little Michael!"[213]

As we got into our bags the mountain tops were fuzzy with drift. We
wanted one clear day to get across the chasm: one short march and the
ponies' task was done. Their food was nearly finished. Scott wrote that
night: "We are practically through with the first stage of our
journey."[214]

"Tuesday, December 5. Camp 30. Noon. We awoke this morning to a raging
howling blizzard. The blows we have had hitherto have lacked the very
fine powdering snow, that especial feature of the blizzard. To-day we
have it fully developed. After a minute or two in the open one is covered
from head to foot. The temperature is high, so that what fal