“swags,” and some carrying no “swags,” (and seemingly not even a pocket-parcel) at all. As we stood on the verandah watching them go Mr. Inspector turned to me with a retrospective smile on his face.
“They start off so gaily, looking so smart!” he said. “They are always the same. But you should see them coming back!”
We could not help laughing, though it was distinctly alarming to hear this warning note so early. But the eight were a most sportsmanlike party. The ladies, six of them at least, wore skirts that in two or three instances struck us as almost too sensible as to length; the chaperone wore black cashmere, with the train pinned up. And the Major, not in the least embarrassed by his queue of strange feminines, was evidently equal to any strain and ready to face any task that luck might set him! The weather was fine when they left, but an hour later the rain began again, and we wondered if their avowed intention of going on as far as the Mintaro huts, fourteen miles distant, would hold out beyond Mid-camp, only seven miles away.
The people at Glade House built a log-fire for us in the dining-room, gave us afternoon tea with delicious home-made cake, and quite a recherche little dinner later on. We sat round the fire all the evening, Mr. Inspector telling us stories of the track, and as the sandflies left us alone, and happy in our loneliness, after the daylight died, we went to bed very much pleased at the propitious commencement to our pilgrimage. For we had all agreed to consider our landing the commencement, as indeed it actually was, of the walk!
Next morning we breakfasted comfortably at about eight o’clock, and set off at ten on a perfect day. For six and a half miles after crossing the river we walked through very pretty woodland on its banks, stopping every mile or so to rest and watch the trout in the clear water. Captain Greendays was pining to fish, for some of the trout were huge fellows, but Mr. Inspector said that they would not rise to bait, and that it was quite useless to try to make them.
It was midday when we got to the group of huts that form the Mid-camp, and the cook in charge told us that the Eight had only gone on that morning, an item of news that made us feel a little uneasy lest they should think seven miles a day hard work enough and be still at Mintaro when we arrived. But we thought of the Major and his wife and daughter,—they would certainly want to do more than that, and the other five would follow the Major, that was certain, so we dismissed our fears and with much interest examined the huts, fac-similes of all the others on the track.
Each one was about 14 by 12, built of wood, with a square corrugated iron chimney-place jutting out of the same wall that the door was in. Bunks are built round two of the walls, eight in all, and two deep, like the berths on a ship. These bunks are most ingeniously fitted with spring mattresses of wire netting nailed to the frames, with a good “kapok”[1] mattress on each, two pillows, and blankets galore. To protect the occupants from draught the two
- ↑ Kapok—Vegetable wool.
