slithering down a steep snow bank which, fortunately, lay deep on the rough cliff side, grabbing fruitlessly at shrubs on the way, which broke in my grasp, until I was brought up all standing on a huge boulder, on which the thick snow broke my fall. Below me the torrent was roaring over its rocky bed; what was to be done? Up I climbed, digging knees and hands into the snow, slipping back, winning a little way, until I reached the top, to find my faithful nag just where I left him, standing stock-still. Not daring in the darkness to risk another slip of, perhaps, horse as well as man, I led him, sticking close to the cliff sides, for nearly two miles, to the foot of the pass, where I saw the welcome light of the little shanty which serves as a place for change of horses. It was quite late; men went up the pass road with lanterns in search of the driver, and at last brought him back. He had had trouble with the horses in the darkness. Next day we completed the journey with a coach to Hokitika, without further incident. The drivers have a hard and perilous time of it in winter, with snow, and with floods in summer. They are well paid, and must needs be skilful and bold whips, for no others could safely negotiate such a dangerous journey. Certainly the horses are mostly bred in the hills, and would almost lie down rather than go over a precipice, but there is always the chance of broken tackle, brakes failing, wheels collapsing; whilst it is scarcely too much to say that, good as the road is, generally, underfoot, there is scarcely ten miles of it, once you are inside the mountain ranges, which is not dangerous. Moreover, these men run an almost certain risk of rheumatism and ill health, having to face all weathers. It says much for them that, as yet, whilst horses have
