ike in appearance and character, etc., and such miles apart in
social standing and nationality, worked shoulder to shoulder in the
stables throughout the long winter night. By the dim candle-light which
illuminated our pony-shelter, one could see Oates grooming his charges,
clearing up their stall, refitting their harness, and fixing up the
little improvements that his quick, watchful eye continually suggested.
At the far end of his stables he had a blubber stove, where he used to
melt ice for the ponies' drinking water and cook bran mashes for his
animals. Here he would often sit and help Meares make dog pemmican out of
seal meat--they made about 8 cwt. of this sustaining preparation.

Moving along from the Chateau, Oates, Meares's and Atkinson's two bunks
came next, Meares above and Atkinson below. These two sleeping berths
likewise were not conspicuous by any superfluity of scientific oddments,
for Meares's work took him outside of the hut as a rule, unless he was
engaged in making dog harness. Meares and Oates were the greatest
friends, and these two, Atkinson, Cherry-Garrard and Bowers, were, if I
remember rightly, known collectively as the Bunderlohg. Although
numerically superior to their _vis-a-vis_, the Ubdugs, and always ready
to revile them, the Ubdugs kept their end up and usually came out
victorious in discussions or in badinage.

Finally, the Holy of Holies, where Captain Scott and the library occupied
one end and Uncle Bill and myself the far corner, with the ceaselessly
ticking chronometers and many sledging watches. There was an air of
sanctity about this part: all the plotting was done here, charts made and
astronomical observations worked out. Wilson worked up his sketches at
the "plotting table," interviewed the staff here, and above his bunk kept
a third of the shore party's library. We had two comfortable trestle beds
up our end and our leader also had a bed in preference to the
built-up bunk adopted by most of the afterguard. Ours was the Mayfair
district: Wilson and I lived in Park Lane in those days, whilst Captain
Scott occupied Grosvenor Street! He had his own little table covered with
"toney" green linoleum, and also had a multiplicity of little shelves on
which to keep his pipes, tobacco, cigars, and other household gods. It
was well illuminated in this part, and, although, hung around with fur
mitts, fur boots, socks, hats and woollen clothing, there was something
very chaste about this ver