swept over the rocky mountain sides; now a peak gleamed in sunshine; then again a jagged edge stood black against a grey sky. No excursions were possible in this weather.
That night it was too windy to light a fire, and it had become cold; we sat indoors by the feeble light of two candles, our shoulders wrapped in rugs. Our bread supply was nearly exhausted, and next day was Sunday, and we could not get a fresh one.
All night it blew fitfully. I had promised salmon for breakfast, but we had to eat it cold, and we had only a very hard end of a loaf and one scone left. Again, the next afternoon, the sky seemed to come down and fill the gorge, and we returned from a short expedition very wet and much depressed. So miserable were we, I felt we must have a fire, and, to my joy, I found the wind had shifted, and the chimney was drawing up, not down. We had dinner, using our last five potatoes, and there was no bread.
I had just washed up when two dogs came bounding up to me, and behind them Mr. Macpherson was seen riding over the paddock. He was very welcome, especially so as he brought us some milk and a jar of cream, and had come to say the weather would be all right by to-morrow, and he would take us to the Ice-caves. As I was setting to work getting some soup ready for him, the wind played me a scurvy trick, for a sudden gust sent sparks and ashes all over my clean floor; and the
