Page:Through South Westland.djvu/116

the black abyss, and brought us to the inn, and a welcome fire and supper. That was a wild night of wind and rain. The Waiho was in high flood next morning, and one could hear the shock and rumble of the enormous boulders grinding each other in the yellow-brown rush of water. No crossing was possible for horses. However, the sun came out, and we were assured three hours at least would carry off the flood. About eleven o’clock one of the men came to say the horses might attempt it, and we rode across the flat to the ford, and found the river divided into two streams, swirling by tumultuously. Huge brown waves curled in yeasty foam over the boulders—it looked a terrible place to venture in with horses. We were a party of five, and the horses breasted it bravely, but I was glad when we reached the other side. As we turned up the track of yesterday, how different it looked now with the blue sky above, and the leaves shining with moisture. Then we crossed the torrent, and leaving the horses on a shingle island, began a toilsome, muddy scramble up the barricade and on to the glacier. When we had climbed over the mountainous pile of frozen dirt and stones, and stood at last on the great frozen river, the ice proved to be in the worst possible condition. The waves of that river have tossed themselves into every fantastic shape. Glassy pinnacles and serrated edges rear themselves hundreds of feet over deep crevasses—at times it seemed like climbing the