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THE OLD HOMESTEAD.
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I could see the horses a long way up the valley grazing contentedly. A flock of terns was wheeling and darting over the river-bed, and Transome, a towel round his shoulders, was just starting for his bathe. I called to him to bring me up the bucket of fresh water, and set off to my own bathing-place—a delightful rock-pool in the waterfall that came down close to the homestead.

The bell-birds and the tuis were calling, and some paradise ducks were winging their way upstream, uttering their plaintive cries. As I came back I saw a bush falcon in the beech before the door, dusky-black when he spread his wings, but speckled like a thrush below. He had evidently been annoying the terns, who were screaming and wheeling over the tree.

I think that first breakfast was the most delicious I ever ate, though I cooked it myself, and the salmon steaks were tinned! We sat in the sunshine at the door. Plates were so scarce, the billy-lid was used for an extra, and we had but one knife each for all purposes—but never did fried salmon and potatoes taste sweeter. The fly in the ointment was the abominable sand-flies, which proved a veritable nuisance. We discussed our plans: where the Ice-caves lay, and up which valley we must seek for the Silver Cone; and we decided the very first step must be a visit to our neighbours in the west valley, to arrange with them for supplies of such necessaries as our stores could not provide. Then I washed up, and looked with