induced to approach the derelict, where she stood breast-deep, while Transome climbed on board and brought off my pack and the knapsacks.
The next journey he brought the groceries in safety, but the saddle-bags, alas! fell in and were rescued with difficulty, and my supply of stamps and stationery suffered. I urged him to leave the rest—the river would fall at least two feet in the night, and no doubt was at its highest now. He was tired and we were both discouraged, but he persisted in another journey, though the mare was shivering from the snow-water. This time he tried to rescue two paper parcels, one containing a large cake and the other a roll of bacon, and they both fell in. Grabbing at the most precious (the bacon, as he thought) he clutched the cake, and the bacon went sailing back to Wanaka! Much as I felt the loss, just then my desire was to get somewhere—even to the hut—for the night.
It was not yet dark, but the light was growing less every minute, and the rest of our stuff must be left to its fate. We put what we could upon the horses, and, with our hands full of the smaller packages, we started back, fording the two smaller branches, and stopping constantly to pick up the things that jolted off. It was a forlorn-looking pair that dragged themselves and their horses through the long grass, over two creeks, and up to the dilapidated old hut—and with but scant hopes of any comfort to be found therein.
