several times to look for it, but when we came to it the little white dots of the clover heads were easily visible, and there was no doubt about the horses’ appreciation when we took off the bridles and let them rest for an hour. Their satisfied cropping mingled with the murmur of the stream; no other sound save the cry of a night bird now and then, disturbed the utter silence. I stood about watching the stars, and though we had been up since before four o’clock, scarcely felt sleepy. When we mounted and rode on again we got among still higher hills, dark and mysterious in the night, but always the ribbon of road wound duskily white ahead of us. About midnight I grew desperately sleepy, snatches of dreams were every now and again disturbed by a stumble or change from down-hill to up-hill. The horses varied their pace but little and travelled steadily. When we came to a long boundary fence with a gate, we tied them there and getting out the oilskins, lay down on the springy bracken for an hour-and-a half’s rest. I remember watching the stars for a little and then knew no more till I wakened stiff and tired, with my feet very cold, and inclined to question the luxury of a bed on the hillside.
Then we mounted for the last stage of the thirty-six miles to the Lindis. A white light was growing up behind the black outline of the hills, and soon the moon rose and the long descent began. Now that we had more light we could canter occasionally, but for the most part we walked in the uncertain
