the dark hills, the snows flushed and faded—the world looked up with a smile of sparkling dewdrops, and a little breeze gently swayed the tall plumes of toe-toe and the flax blades. At 4.30 I awoke Transome, and he started for the homestead. Tom cantered and galloped on a loose rein all the way, and covered the ten miles in less than an hour on none too good a track. Great was the excitement and amusement at the homestead! but they gave the “shipwrecked” man a good breakfast, and Mr. Ross, leaving his hay, rode back with him, armed with three fresh traces and a stout rope.
Meantime, having packed all in readiness, at six o’clock I went down to the scene of the disaster. There lay the Berline quite unharmed; the waters had abated a full foot from its bottom boards; peaceful and blue the river rippled under and around it, and our forsaken goods lay in a heap untouched where we had left them last night. I returned to the hut, and fell asleep; but it was a long morning, and about ten I was thankful to see two horsemen come over the rise, and was soon welcoming Mr. Ross, who seemed to think the whole thing a tremendous joke.
They rested the horses for an hour, then loading two of them (I riding the third) we conveyed all our stuff back to the river. When we came to the ford, Mr. Ross waded in and tied a rope to the forepart of the Berline, and amid much laughing, it was hauled out, while I photographed them at various stages. A few minutes more and the load
