Page:Through South Westland.djvu/161

We found ourselves on the sandy shores of a little lagoon, whose blue waters lay in a setting of bright green reeds. Black swan and duck were on its placid surface, a little patch of beauty and peace. Just outside the Pacific thundered, and when we climbed the sand bank we stood above the great white curlers, and along their edge black-backed gulls as large as geese were digging out shellfish, and fighting and screaming over every morsel. They took no notice of us at all—war, and tumult of waves outside; utter peace and stillness within. Then we turned to look down that lonely shore. Far as the eye could see it was lined with the white skeletons of forest trees, bleached by sun and wind—packed in an impenetrable chevaux de frise imbedded in the sand. Here and there a black one or a mass of seaweed deceived us with its resemblance to a man on horseback, and for long we watched one, as we thought, riding towards us. Over all, the heat-haze shimmered and danced. The distance between us and a far-away blue headland seemed illimitable. Swamp on our left, the thundering Pacific on our right; between, that stretch of shifting sand. How had the Main South Road fallen from its high estate! It was slow going in the loose sand. The afternoon sun beat fiercely in our faces, and those phantom riders ahead caused us many disappointments. We tried riding among the sand dunes, and after a time we struck a long green alley sheltered by a growth of creepers and stunted