hastily admitted my course was quite correct, but still seemed to find it a great joke, so I gave them up as hopeless, and we remounted and proceeded the rest of the way at a sober pace. Of course we jeered at our guide, who was the only skilled rider the party boasted, for coming to grief; but he took it with his usual philosophic calm and chuckled away to himself over "sitting on his head." We arrived at Scott's at 7 p.m. and were warmly welcomed.
Next day was too wet to start. We did make the attempt, but had to turn back, deciding it would be wiser to stay in our comfortable quarters than arrive at Douglas Rock wet through, with no chance of getting dry again. We engaged a Maori who was at Scott's to come over with us as porter. Mr. Frind had had enough of his swag on the forward journey.
Down in the stockyard in the afternoon we watched our new porter break in a buck-jumper. It was as fine an exhibition of horsemanship as I have ever seen, and put the professional buck-jumpers at the Christchurch Exhibition altogether in the shade. By the end of the performance the vicious, ugly brute, finding it impossible to dislodge his rider, was quite cowed. Next morning, when his master mounted him prepared for trouble, he was quite amenable to reason, enforced with a stockwhip.
We left Scott's at 8 a.m., the day being quite fine, and arrived at the Springs about 10.30 a.m. I had a hot bath, but did not enjoy it much; the mud was so slimy, it conjured up visions of all sorts of loathsome reptiles, and the sandflies made a good meal while I dressed. After lunch and an hour's rest we set off again, and reached Douglas Rock at 7 p.m. I had a glorious bath in a snow-fed stream; it was icy cold, but an immense improvement on the muddy old hot spring. We spent a peaceful night, as the fire did not go out this time and the sandflies were baffled. It began to rain at daylight.
