out of our gallop that it was cheap at the risk of a tumble. We arrived at Scott's farm-house at 6 p.m., and welcomed civilization in the shape of a good dinner, a hot bath, and a real bed. Next day we had a thirty-mile ride ahead of us, so I set about procuring a side-saddle. Being unused to riding astride, it made me stiff in the knees, and was not half as pleasurable. There being no other, Miss Scott kindly lent me her own saddle and favourite horse, which kindness and consideration added considerably to my comfort and well-being for the rest of the journey.
Early next morning there was a thick fog and light rain, so we did not get away till about 9.30 a.m. We followed a good bush road, winding through typical West Coast forest until we came to the Cook River. This is the usual New Zealand river, a huge bed of grey stones with four or five streams meandering through it in all directions. Sometimes it is both difficult and dangerous to cross, but on this occasion we managed it with little trouble. About a mile farther on we came to Williams's farm, where we paused for lunch and an hour's rest. Here we had some disappointments in the matter of scenery, the mountains remaining obstinately concealed in the mist, and of the Fox Glacier we had but one little glimpse before the clouds closed down upon it again.
We left Williams's at 2.30 p.m. for our seventeen-mile ride over the range to Waiho Gorge and the far-famed Franz Josef Glacier. We followed a rough mountain track, the embankments of which were smothered in a profusion of beautiful ferns and mosses. It rained lightly all the way, just enough to obscure the distant view and keep us cool.
For Graham the ride was a triumphal progress, he having lived all his life, till he became a guide, in this part of the world. Every one we met knew him, and stopped to have a yarn; or he had friends on the farms who could not be passed by without a word of greeting.
