/2 hours we did just
over 4 miles. We are 16 from our depot. If we only find the correct
proportion of food there and this surface continues, we may get to the
next depot [Mt. Hooper, 72 miles farther] but not to One Ton Camp. We
hope against hope that the dogs have been to Mt. Hooper; then we might
pull through. If there is a shortage of oil again we can have little
hope. One feels that for poor Oates the crisis is near, but none of us
are improving, though we are wonderfully fit considering the really
excessive work we are doing. We are only kept going by good food. No wind
this morning till a chill northerly air came ahead. Sun bright and cairns
showing up well. I should like to keep the track to the end."

"_Thursday, March 8. Lunch._ Worse and worse in morning; poor Oates' left
foot can never last out, and time over foot-gear something awful. Have to
wait in night foot-gear for nearly an hour before I start changing, and
then am generally first to be ready. Wilson's feet giving trouble now,
but this mainly because he gives so much help to others. We did 41/2 miles
this morning and are now 81/2 miles from the depot--a ridiculously small
distance to feel in difficulties, yet on this surface we know we cannot
equal half our old marches, and that for that effort we expend nearly
double the energy. The great question is: What shall we find at the
depot? If the dogs have visited it we may get along a good distance, but
if there is another short allowance of fuel, God help us indeed. We are
in a very bad way, I fear, in any case."

"_Saturday, March 10._ Things steadily downhill. Oates' foot worse. He
has rare pluck and must know that he can never get through. He asked
Wilson if he had a chance this morning, and of course Bill had to say he
didn't know. In point of fact he has none. Apart from him, if he went
under now, I doubt whether we could get through. With great care we might
have a dog's chance, but no more. The weather conditions are awful, and
our gear gets steadily more icy and difficult to manage....

"Yesterday we marched up the depot, Mt. Hooper. Cold comfort. Shortage on
our allowance all round. I don't know that any one is to blame. The dogs
which would have been our salvation have evidently failed. Meares had a
bad trip home I suppose.

"This morning it was calm when we breakfasted, but the wind came from the
W.N.W. as we broke camp. It rapidly grew in strength. After travelling
for half an hour I saw t