Oates came next, with his bunk more free of debris than anybody else's,
for he was the horse man, pure and simple, and his duties freed him from
that superabundance of books, instruments, stationery, specimens, charts,
and what-not with which we others had surrounded ourselves. Any spare
gear he kept in the saddle room, a specially cleared space in the
stables, where he was assisted by the little Russian groom, Anton, who
soon became devoted to his hard-working and capable master. The two men,
so unlike 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 Château, 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-à-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.