A brief acquaintance soon convinced me that
he was without doubt a cross between a pig and a mule. He was obviously a
strong beast and, since he always went as slowly as possible and stopped
as often as possible it was most difficult to form any opinion as to what
load he was really able to draw. Consequently I am afraid there is little
doubt that he was generally overloaded until that grim day on the Barrier
when he was set upon by a dog-team. It was his final collapse at the end
of the Depot journey which caused Scott to stay behind when we went out
on the sea-ice. But of that I shall speak again.
Twice only have I ever seen Weary Willie trot. We were leading the ponies
now as always with halters and without bits. Consequently our control was
limited, especially on ice, but doubtless the ponies' comfort was
increased, especially in cold weather when a metal bit would have been
difficult if not impossible. On this occasion he and I had just arrived
at the ship after a trudge in which I seemed to be pulling both Weary and
the sledge. Just then a motor back-fired, and we started back across that
floe at a pace which surprised Weary even more than myself, for he fell
over the sledge, himself and me, and for days I felt like a big black
bruise. The second occasion on which he got a move on was during the
Depot journey when Gran on ski tried to lead him.
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