and elder bushes still marked the site of the garden, but most of the trees were dead, and the little stream that ran by the homestead has changed its course. The settlers are gone years ago, ruined by snows and floods, and only the St. John’s wort flourishes after their years of toil.
We cantered steadily, a tearing hot wind chasing us and raising clouds of dust all the way down the river-bed. I was thankful to get to Mrs. Ross’s clean, nice kitchen; and after the parching heat and dust, her ginger-beer was very refreshing.
How strangely odd it felt to sit down to lunch at a table laid with a spotless cloth, and in the centre a bunch of sweet peas in a glass; and the roast lamb and mint sauce, vegetables, and blackcurrant tart, seemed a feast indeed! Haymaking was going on, and the men had all to hurry back after dinner, for these north-west storms end in violent rains in these parts. How quickly everything was washed and put away, the little girl laid down to sleep, and Mrs. Ross, in her pretty blue and white cotton dress, busy with the batch of bread as soon as we had finished tidying-up. I discovered some of this was meant for us, and a roast leg of lamb had been set aside too, and I do believe she imagined we were starving! Then came tea, with delicious shortbread, and time for a chat; and then, as the wind was dropping, we said good-bye and set out, absolutely laden with good things.
It had become much colder—the sky was over-
